


A French Holiday

by dreamofflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, French, M/M, Oral Sex, Singing, sweet talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofflight/pseuds/dreamofflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When D. Smith aka Dean Winchester, successful author and heavy smoker, had booked his recreational holiday to Le Havre, France, he hadn't expected to meet the love of his life in a small café at the ocean. But apart from overcoming the language difficulties there is the certainty of Dean leaving in three months, that's breaking Castiel's heart...</p><p>Written by Dreamofflight (Castiel, Gabriel, Anna) and Camuizuuki (Dean, Sam, Jess)<br/>Art work by Dreamofflight<br/>Beta's: Dickspeights & somnifuge on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an RP, and as such there may be some overlap between the characters actions.  
> This is set in France, and because of that some of the characters speak french, however, we wanted to make it easy for our audiences to read, so anytime text is placed between *asterisks like this* it means that the character is speaking in French.  
> We also have an AMAZING translator work on the actual French we wrote up, Somnifuge. She's just a darling <3

*“I need two cups of black tea, milk and honey for both... Um... What did you want sweetheart?”*  
The middle aged woman who had been speaking looks down at the blonde girl beside her, who was busy staring into the glass case filled with pastries, cakes and confections in front of her, both hands and her little face pressed against the previously smudge free glass.  
*“I want the teddy bear cookie!”,* she says, and beams up at the woman, who can't help but return the smile. She laughs before turning back to the man behind the counter.  
*“A teddy bear cookie, and a canelé for me please, Castiel.”*  
*“Will that be all today Lisandra ?”*  
*“Yes, thank you.”*  
*“Okay, I'll bring those right out.”*  
The woman pays for her food and then walks away, pig-tailed child in tow. The little girl turns around and smiles up at the dark haired man behind the counter, waves, and then follows her mother out into the shaded courtyard.  
'Always good to see them,' he thinks, and smiles to himself, before walking back into the kitchen to make the tea.

It was an easy Sunday morning, only 10am and already his café, Petits Gâteaux, was doing a decent business. Finishing up the tea and grabbing the pastries and a tray for everything for his customers, Castiel walks out into the small courtyard in front of his shop, taking a moment to look over the recent changes he and his sister Anna had made to the place. The shop was on the street right on beach, Chemin de la Mer, so his customers could sit in the shade of the giant canopy of fig trees and look out at the beautiful ocean. The fig trees provided ample shade, and they had grown since his grandparents had planted them when they rebuilt the shop in 1946, after the second world war had devastated the city of Le Havre, which Petits Gâteaux was in the heart of. The fig trees had started off small, but had grown up until they stretched above the second story of the small shop that stood at the back of the lot, housing both the café and a tiny upstairs apartment that Castiel called home. Long before he was born, his parents had followed the tradition started by his grandparents of planting new things within the courtyard, and had added grape vines, wisteria and a jasmine plant near the entrance, hoping the aroma would bring patrons in during the hot summer afternoons.  
It had worked. Petits Gâteaux was one of the most popular cafés for locals, hidden away as it was behind large flowering vines and a curling wrought iron gate and trellis. Not many tourists came through, and Castiel wasn't bothered by that. Most of the tourists he had encountered had been rude, pushy, and hadn't been able to understand when he told them that he didn't speak English. He supposed that learning English would be a good idea, considering almost everyone spoke at least two languages these days – their native language, and English. For some reason he could never quite pinpoint, he was just opposed to it, and had avoided learning anything beyond the basics of 'I'm sorry I don't speak English' and 'The restroom is around the corner'.  
Dropping the tea and pastries off he turned around again to admire the hand painted mural on one wall ; Anna was so talented, she had managed to turn one entire wall into a French country side, complete with trees and rolling golden hills, cliffs and large estates in the distance. The other wall was jam packed with the creeping ivy that Castiel had planted when he was younger, that had basically taken over the entire wall. The neighbors didn't mind that their walls were being used in this fashion, even though technically it was their property, as the walls were the exterior of their buildings. Castiel's little courtyard was a haven for all though, and the owners of the businesses next door were happy to have a place to escape to when things got rough over the summer months, and the beach was packed with tourists and out-of-towners looking for some fun.  
The courtyard was made up of a beautiful red brick work for the floor, slightly uneven and certainly not an interesting pattern, laid side-by-side by his grandfather all those years ago, but they had held up under decades of foot traffic. Occasionally one would need to be replaced, and Anna had seen to it that whenever that happened, the replacement was more beautiful than the last, choosing different colored bricks, ceramics, granite, occasionally even glass tiles. Now the floor was a patchwork quilt of stone, glass, and brick, which just added to the overall feel of 'home'. The walls had been painted a warm, buttery yellow, and where they were covered in vines, trellises or murals, the paint gave everything a sunny disposition, though it was cracked and had flaked off in large patches to reveal the brickwork of the buildings beneath here and there. The fig trees were encircled with worn wooden benches, carved with people's names and initials, dates and phrases for good luck, or a long lasting relationship. The wood was smooth with wear, and sitting beneath the fig trees was a favorite spot of many of the regulars to Petits Gâteaux. The chairs and tables were all wrought iron, like the front gate, swirling patterns reminiscent of Art Nouveau. Potted trumpet plants dotted the courtyard, along with moss covered stone figurines at the bases of trellises, and flower beds filled to the bring with a mixture of wild flowers, an explosion of color against the green backdrop of the ivy.  
Finally, taking a look at the café itself, Castiel had to smile. The hand painted 'Petits Gâteaux' that stood out in curling burgundy and gold lettering against the yellow wall always made him happy. Anna had helped, but that part he had done mostly on his own. The deep red and white striped awning that hung beneath the lettering shaded the front of the shop when the sun was directly overhead, but it was more for show than practical use- most of the time the courtyard was in dappled shade to completely shaded, thanks to the fig trees and the tall buildings on either side of the café. The large wooden door leading into the café itself was open from 7am until 8pm every day, rain or shine, holiday or no, and Castiel hadn't taken a sick day in years, not since he caught pneumonia one winter while cleaning up outside in the rain (how Anna had yelled at him for that one!).  
Sighing contently to himself, happy with the cleanup work and slight remodeling they had done, Castiel walks back inside, just in time to refill a customer's coffee cup, and hand him yet another éclair, the third one that morning.  
*“They are just delicious today, Castiel! You've outdone yourself yet again!”*  
*“Thank you Peter... Have a good day!”*  
*“You as well my boy.”*  
Castiel smiles and wipes his hands on the white apron around his waist, pushes back the sleeves of his light blue button up, and waits for the next customer from behind the counter.

***

Dean Winchester felt completely out of place.  
Sure, the scenery was incredible, the air fresh and clean and the food was just divine. But France just wasn’t his cup of tea. Or coffee. Basically the people around here were - and he really had tried very hard to think of another word for it - weird. European folks just seemed to expect everyone to speak their strange, nasal language and sorry, Dean was totally not going to learn French for only just three months. He still didn’t understand why Dr. Singer had to send him to France. He could do with some rest and yes, a vacation by the sea sounded awesome - but France? Dean hadn’t been outside of the US his whole life and when his brother Sam had followed his fiancée Jessica to France, he’d had a hard time understanding why anyone would trade their home to a place like this. But Sam was happy and if Dean read in between the lines correctly, he would be an uncle pretty soon… So he had booked this trip, health cure to get rid of the nicotine addiction that necessarily came along with being a fairly moderate writer. And granted - the French men were just delicious. Dean had been hanging out at the beach of Le Havre all morning, lying on his towel and letting the sun caress his already tanned skin, while checking out the surfer boys walking by from under his aviators. Around noon he’d went for a quick swim, letting the fresh ocean water cool his heated skin, before returning to his towel - only to find it already occupied. The guy was pretty handsome, tall and dark-haired, just to Dean’s taste, and he totally undressed him with his dark brown eyes.  
“You do realize you’re lying on my towel”, Dean teased as he walked closer, making sure to show off his abs as much as possible.  
The guy laughed and shifted a bit to the side, patting on the space next to him.  
“You join me, d'accord?”  
He smiled up at him and Dean licked his lips, shrugging. He was glad the guy spoke at least a bit English, cause as much as Dean loved one night stands, it was kind of nice understanding what your partner was screaming when in bed…  
“How about we go grab something to eat, instead?”, he suggested, when his stomach started grumbling. He could really use some food and maybe a whole canister of beer. Therefore, he grabbed his white shirt, pulling it over his wet body and followed the guy down the beach.  
The guy, Jérôme, was one of the more talkative faction, telling Dean about his city and his family on their way to his favorite place : a café and confectionery shop a little outside of Le Havre. When they arrived there around half an hour later, Dean was already kind of annoyed with the guy. Sure, talking was nice and everything, but his English was just horrible and Dean felt like punching him, rather than fucking him… The place was small and unflashy at the front and Dean followed Jérôme inside with a queasy feeling… Once they stepped outside again, though, Dean totally got why Jérôme liked this place. The backyard was speckled in sunshine, parts of it lying completely in the shade of large trees and Dean spent a good five minutes just looking, admiring the wall paintings and iron chairs and tables, the peculiar floor and the genuinely happy and content people all around. They sat down on a table right under one of the big trees and Dean bit back an annoyed comment, cause he’d rather sit at the very end of the yard, as close to the ocean as possible, the space bathed in warm sunlight.

***

Castiel grabbed a pitcher of ice tea to refill a customer's glass, and after he was done with that he wandered over to the pair of men sitting beneath one of the fig trees, a soft smile on his face. The smile almost instantly disappeared when he realized who it was sitting there. Jérôme, a local flirt who bedded just about anything on two legs, man or woman, married or not, and preferred tourists as most of the locals from Le Havre wouldn't have anything to do with him anymore. 'Et merde.', Castiel thought, then sighed and put on his best 'happy owner' smile before walking up to them both.

*"Hello, welcome to Petits Gâteaux, my name is Castiel, what can I get for you both to-"*  
His breath catches in his throat when the man that was with Jérôme turns around at the sound of his voice – he was absolutely the most beautiful thing that Castiel had ever seen. Caramel tanned skin, flashing green eyes, full pink lips and the chiseled jaw line and nose of a god. Castiel took a breath, his lungs burning from holding the last one for so long.  
*"Um... What can I get for you both?"*  
Jérôme looks from Castiel to Dean and back again, a flicker of something going over his face that could only be described as mischief. He shrugs and speaks in French back to the owner of the shop, not looking at Dean again.  
*"I'll have an iced tea, and a croissant... Let me see what my friend would like."*  
Jérôme turns to Dean and smiles a snake like smile, all venom and planning.  
“So, what would you like for eating Dean?”  
Castiel fidgets with his pitcher, watching the condensation bead and pool and then race down the side of the blown glass to drop onto the bricks beneath his feet. He couldn't look at the man - Dean was his name? - again ; he was terrified he would somehow guess Castiel's thoughts, even though it seemed obvious by this point that the man spoke little to no French, if Jérôme was ordering for him. Castiel sighed inwardly, acknowledging that of course Jérôme would pick up on the most breath taking man he'd ever seen, and of course that man wouldn't speak French. At least this way there was no chance of Castiel awkwardly stepping over himself in a conversation, stuttering or spilling out words he didn't mean to. Probably for the best they had that barrier, both language and Jérôme. Yes, probably for the best.  
He stood waiting for Dean's response and Jérôme's translation, the shade from the tree and his downward cast gaze hiding most of his features from view.

***

Dean had been perusing the menu for a while now, trying to decipher the tiny font in a foreign language with a deep frown on his face, when a soft and melodic voice brings him back to reality. And as he puts down the menu and raises his head, he looks up in the face of god. The waiter - although seeming a little older than both of them - actually kind of resembles Jérôme, what with the pale skin and the dark hair. But his eyes… Oh, God, his eyes are a whole different story… Crystal blue, reflecting Dean’s astonished face almost ridiculously clear. Dean clears his throat, trying to tear his eyes from the man, but failing. He thinks Jérôme notices too, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. Dean flashes the man a smile and turns back to face Jérôme, who asks about his order. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of letting him translate, Dean pick up the menu again and scoots his eyes over the daily offers. Turning back to the waiter, he smiles again, all teeth and nose crinkles, and points at something in the card.  
“Une... uhm… gâteau au chocolat.”, he says in his best - and absolutely ridiculous - French, then, licking his lips, he adds “And a black coffee, please?”.  
He grins some more and shrugs his shoulders, when he sees both Jérôme and the waiter look at him with a mixture of surprise and wonder.  
“Sorry, I did my best.”

***

Castiel can't help the smile that comes across his lips, but manages to hold back the chuckle that wants to escape. “Un excellent choix, Monsieur.”  
He knew the word “coffee” meant “café” from hearing it enough times, so he nods to both of the men and walks back inside to get them their order. Castiel's hands work automatically, his mind preoccupied with watching the man sitting with Jérôme from behind the counter, eyes roving over his face, strong wide shoulders and built arms, down to his hands. Castiel blushes, his mind immediately jumping to places and thoughts it had rarely been before. He wasn't ever this attracted to people, in fact, he could count on one hand in all his 30 years of life the amount of times he'd felt this kind of instant, fiery attraction. It was almost uncomfortable, how just looking at the other man shot heat straight to his loins. He was thankful for the heavy apron around his waist suddenly.  
It doesn't take long to prepare a tray for their order, and he walks back out with it balanced on one hand, his step light as he weaves through the tables and other patrons back to where Jérôme and Dean sit.  
“Un café et une part de gâteau au chocolat.”  
He places the plate with the chocolate cake on it before Dean, and it looks like a masterpiece. Chocolate syrup was drizzled in a beautiful crisscross pattern beneath the large slice of cake, and there was as sprig of fresh mint tucked in the side for a dash of bright green color. 'Matches his eyes', Castiel thought to himself, when he'd put it on the plate in the kitchen. He puts down the small cup of black coffee, then a tiny container of milk and a little cup filled with raw brown sugar lumps.  
“Et un croissant et du thé pour vous.”  
He puts the iced tea down along with a plate with the croissant on it, the iced tea its usual presentation with fresh lemon slices inside and another sprig of mint, but the croissant is just plain on its plate, nothing special done to it. Jérôme smiles and grabs Castiel's wrist, which makes him freeze, blue eyes wide as they stare into Jérôme's own brown ones.  
*"Thank you Castiel... May I talk to you for a moment?"*  
Castiel hesitates, then nods.  
*"Of course..."*  
Jérôme lets go of his wrist and Castiel walks back to the café door. Jérôme smiles to Dean and speaks quickly.  
“I must speak with the owner...I will be back in a moment.”  
He gets up and slinks his way through the dwindling crowd to the door where Castiel waits. They speak quickly, Jérôme expressing himself in hushed tones and hand gestures, Castiel withdrawing in on himself, the tray in his hands coming up almost like a shield, pressed tight against his chest.  
*"No no no, Castiel, you misunderstand. I am asking if you would like to... Enjoy the company of myself and my new friend. I saw how you were looking at him earlier."*  
*"... No."*  
*"Are you sure? He does look delicious, does he not?"*  
Both men turn their heads to look back at Dean, Jérôme with a grin and an eyebrow raise, Castiel with a blush as he quickly looks away.  
*"No Jérôme, I... I am not like that. Please, go back to your friend... And let me get back to my work."*  
Jérôme hesitates for a moment, about to pressure more, when a new customer walks up and past the two men to get inside the cafe. Castiel uses the opportunity to slip away back behind the safety of his counter.  
Jérôme sighs, then shrugs and saunters his way back to Dean's side, a smile automatically upon his lips the moment he sits back down.  
“Ah... Hello again, Beautiful. How is your sweets?”  
***  
Dean had leaned back in his chair, the tiny fork already in his hand, as his eyes followed both men on their way back to the café. He couldn't hear what they were talking about - of course not, as they were about 50 feet away from him - but it was clearly obvious that the owner of Petits Gâteaux seemed fairly uncomfortable around Dean’s companion. And he couldn't blame him… Fair enough, Jérôme was handsome, but he was also loud and the way he threw himself at people he found interesting was downright obnoxious. When Jérôme makes his way back to their table, Dean is almost disappointed and the young man seems to be not very pleased himself. Dean doesn't ask, though, just nods at him, cutting off a first piece off his cake and guiding the fork to his lips. The moment the confectionery meets his tongue, he swears he’s close to fainting. The taste was indescribable… Cool chocolate melting on his tongue, the soft syrup coating it delicately and Dean cannot help the low moan escaping his lips. Jérôme looks at him with a mixture of smugness and arousal and Dean doesn't even care about being uncomfortable. This… This was too good to care for anything else right now. He savors the feeling, takes his time to taste every tiny piece of cake and by the time he licks the last crumbs from his fork, his coffee is already cold. He reaches for his napkin, brushing it over his mouth, before leaning back and sighing, part disappointment about being done, part pure and utter satisfaction. His eyes search the café until they fall on the owner, who’s leaning against the door frame and… Yeah… He’s definitely looking over to him and Jérôme. Dean flashes him a smile and licks his lips again, more in an attempt on showing how much he had enjoyed the cake than a flirtatious gesture. But the man just blushes deeply, before turning around quickly and disappearing inside. Dean frowns and after a few more seconds looks back to Jérôme, who seems displeased.  
“This was-… You were right, the cake was very good!”, Dean says and smiles at him.  
He takes a sip of his now-cold coffee and licks his lips again, before clearing his throat.  
“Uhm, look - I totally forgot… I got an appointment, my brother’s in town so… Yeah…”  
He quickly stands - maybe a bit too quick - and grabs his towel, that’s been hanging over the back of his chair. He leans down to kiss Jérôme’s cheek for a second - something you just do in Europe, as it seems - and raises his hand for goodbye. He turns around before the guy can protest and makes his way over to the door. The owner’s standing behind the counter inside of the cafe, staring at a tray filled with tiny cupcakes and Dean has to clear his throat twice until he finally looks up. His cheeks are still slightly red and he seems caught in the act somehow.  
“The cake… uhm… gâteau?- chocolate… thingy - It was very good… délicieux!”, Dean says and smiles at him. He’d love to stay, to try talking to the guy more - and making an idiot out of himself - but he wants to avoid Jérôme following him and so he just winks at the beautiful man staring at him kind of speechless, before leaving the café.

***

Castiel wasn’t sure what to make of the man who had been with Jérôme, and Jérôme was certainly pissed off when he left, barely saying goodbye to Castiel, which he honestly didn’t mind.  
The strange tourist went from his mind fairly quickly that day, as business picked up even more and he had a dozen different cake orders to fulfill by tomorrow. At the end of the day though, piping on his 70th rose onto a 3 tiered wedding cake, the image of gorgeous green eyes and a too confident smile came back to him, and he smiled himself. Until he realized that in his distraction he’d ruined the rose.  
“Oh merde!”  
~  
A whole week went by before Castiel thought about Dean again, and it was Sunday once more, the day cooler than the days before, so not as many people wanted refreshments, and the courtyard only had a handful of regulars sitting in the sunlight and reading, sipping their drinks and eating their treats.  
Castiel busied himself with another order, this one for a baker’s dozen canelés de Bordeaux, with a fresh raspberry compote on the side. He worked in the open kitchen, easily viewed from the counter, as the only thing separating the front room of the café and the back room was a doorway which was always open, the door having been removed long ago, and a large open window like area in the center of the wall, with a built in table that bridged the kitchen and the front area. It was perfect to place orders to be picked up on, and to display more elaborate pieces that Castiel had built, as well as baskets of the fresh bread that he made every morning before the sun even rose.  
He hummed to himself, voice soft and low, as he pulled the molds from the oven and flipped them over on a rack, tapping the bottom sides with a wooden spoon. Castiel worked quickly, and all of the cakes cake out perfectly. He’s distracted with stirring the raspberry mixture on the stove so doesn’t notice when the next customer comes in.

***

At the beginning of the week Jess calls and invites him over to dinner at their place and Dean gladly accepts. After all he’s finally in close vicinity to his younger brother and his lovely - and very talented in the kitchen - fiancée again so why the hell would he reject such a tempting offer? He ends up spending the whole week just outside of Le Havre, occupying their guest bedroom and enjoying the familial atmosphere. On Thursday Sam suggests a trip to Paris, which is really only about 2 hours away and Dean - not really the biggest fan of walking around a crowded city for hours and looking at old and liable to collapse buildings - hesitantly agrees. Paris is… well… it’s nice. Not as beautiful as Dean had always imagined it would be, after seeing all the nice pictures on postcards and reading about the ‘city of love’. Well, maybe you could find love somewhere in the dumpsters they called streets… They return a bit disillusioned, Dean kind of disappointed and Sam and Jess uncomprehending as to why Dean didn’t share their enthusiasm about the city. He stays for dinner and breakfast the next morning, but then takes a cab back to his hotel in the city center of Le Havre. Having neglected his work for almost a whole week starts to seriously bug him and the moment he steps into his nice, small room, he decides to finally get some work done. After a quick shower and changing his clothes, he grabs his notebook and wallet, puts on his sunglasses and leaves the hotel again. He wanders around this part of the city for a while, searching for a good, quiet place, but failing miserably. It’s tourists and local street vendors everywhere, the constant buzzing of voices and laughter and street noise and suddenly Dean knows just where he needs to go. He walks down to the beach and follows the same path he and Jérôme had taken just a week ago. He’s surprised by how easily he finds the Petits Gâteaux again, grinning to himself as he takes the two steps leading to the small café. There’s nobody in the interior of the house, all guests having preferred the shady back yard as usual, so when Dean peeks into the open kitchen and spots the owner with his back turned towards him, the smile on his lips widens and he leans over the counter, pressing the antique table bell.

***

Castiel turns around at the sound of the bell, wiping his hands on his apron as he walks out to the counter again, looking down as he walks to make sure his hands are clean before he greets the customer.  
“Bonjour! En quoi puis-je vous être utile?”  
He freezes when he realizes who it was that rang the bell, and smiles awkwardly, clearing his throat.  
“Uh—Hello…?”  
Castiel wore a white v-neck shirt this morning, stains from the raspberries all across the front of the apron around his waist. The shirt showed off collarbones and a tiny hollow at his neck, strong shoulders and leanly muscled arms. Castiel fidgeted slightly, brushing a hand through ever messy hair. Today there was a dusting of powdered sugar in it, almost like snow.  
‘He is back…I thought he was just a tourist?… perhaps his holiday is longer than most.’, Castiel thinks to himself.

***

Dean smiles at the quite obvious surprise in the man’s voice and straightens himself back up again, letting his eyes scoot over his whole body. He never had known about his liking of aprons but now that he was confronted with it- damn, even stained and wrinkled fabric could be hot, when worn by such a gorgeous creature…  
He clears his throat and gestures outside.  
“I'm going to… Uhm, can you just bring me a cappuccino? And… two of these.”. He holds up two of his fingers, then points at a display of fancy cupcakes in all the colors of the rainbow “Merci.”  
He waits a moment for the other man to nod, then stretches out a hand to softly touch his at the top of the counter.  
“I’m-… Je suis Dean”, he says and smiles a bit awkwardly at the sound of his horrible French “And you are…?

***

Castiel practically jumps when Dean touches him, a spark of static electricity zapping through them both. He blushes and stares up at Dean, bright blue eyes wide in wonder. That was the first time that had ever happened to him, and of course the logical explanation was that one or the other was just carrying a charge, and it had jumped from one hand to the next; but Castiel's heart was already beating twice as fast as it had before looking into Dean's eyes, his mind whirling with possibility.  
“Ah... Je m'appelle Castiel... Um... I... Uh yes... Oui.”  
He nods and licks his lips nervously before turning away quickly and going to make the cappuccino, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he felt Dean's eyes watching him, appraising him. Castiel wasn't sure what to make of the man ; he wasn't dense, he could tell when someone was flirting. But was that what all Americans did? He hadn't really paid attention in the past, too annoyed by obnoxious attitudes from almost all the tourists who passed through, the lack of manners making his blood boil. Dean was different. He was polite, although cheeky, and Castiel was finding that the heat in his cheeks was more from embarrassment at not knowing what to say to the man, considering that he was sure Dean didn't speak much French, and Castiel spoke even less English, than from the obvious flirtation that Dean was throwing his way.  
'I suppose it is for the best. He will most likely be leaving soon...', he thought to himself while hesitating over which cupcake to pick, his pale finely sculpted hand, fingers cracked from constant washing, hovering over the plate in the glass case. He carefully picked up two of the prettiest ones, the white and red rose topping each respectively made from perfectly shaped icing, and two sugar leaves stuck under the layer of frosting to finish off the work of art. Castiel places both on a small plate and then puts the cappuccino on another, holding the golden spoon on the plate with his thumb as he walks out of the cafe and over to where Dean had taken a seat- much to Castiel's surprise, as close to the cafe entrance as possible.  
“Ah...”  
He clears his throat and then speaks again, trying his best to mix the French and English he knew.  
“Voilà vos deux, heu... cupcakes et un cappuccino.”  
Castiel smiles nervously as he sets the plates down, almost spilling the coffee his hand is trembling. He catches the cup though and lets out a huff of a sigh, smiling again quickly before turning around and hastily making his way back inside, his cheeks once again burning.  
'Very very graceful Castiel!', he mentally berates himself as he returns to the safety of his counter.

***

Instead of taking a seat at one of the tables he had been eying on his first visit, Dean chooses a table near the entrance from where he can see part of the counter and occasionally the owners… Castiel’s hands, working swiftly on his order. He doesn’t miss that they’re shaking when he brings out a small tray with the coffee and sweets and Dean can’t hide a grin at that. If he’s not mistaken - and he’s almost never wrong when it’s about this - he seems to have a similar effect on Castiel like the other has on Dean. His eyes follow the man back into the café and he waits until he can’t see him anymore, before taking the handle of his cup and taking a first sip. The cappuccino is delicious, yet so very different from what Dean is used to... There must be some sort of secret recipe to it and Dean is tempted to winkle it out of Castiel one way or another. He pulls out his notebook from the bag he was carrying it in and turns it on, before leaning back again and taking another sip of the hot beverage. Castiel… Dean doesn’t really like the French language or the strange names people around here tend to have - but he has to admit that Castiel was a really fucking beautiful name…  
Dean spends the whole afternoon working on his notes, raising his head whenever Castiel leaves the café, flashing him a smile and grinning to himself, when he gets a deep blushing face in response. And nobody could blame him for not really getting anywhere with the book, when he’s distracted by somebody as gorgeous as Castiel…

***

Castiel finds himself distracted by Dean, and can't seem to do normal everyday tasks with efficiency. He drops teacups and spills water, over heats milk and mixes up orders. Eventually one of his regulars asks him if anything is wrong and all he can do it smile and nod, saying, “Oui, tout va bien...”, before going back to work.  
Soon the sun starts setting and the dinner crowd rushes in, not a large crowd as Castiel doesn't have many dinner dishes, but he always prepares at least one entree a day for people to try. Today was a Niçoise salad with fresh baby greens, hard boiled eggs sliced into quarters, tomatoes from the small garden on the roof of the cafe, and seared tuna, with a side of sliced baby red and blue potatoes topped with chives, olive oil, and lemon. With all the work he had to do he soon forgot about Dean, and was surprised to find him still sitting there once the rush had died down.  
Castiel blushes, realizing the man had been there for easily 6 hours, and bites his lower lip as he watches him from one side of the courtyard, before walking over to the table and taking the empty plates and cups.  
“Ah...mh Dean? Un moment...”  
He holds up his empty hand to signal that Dean should stay put, that Castiel would be right back. He walks inside and flips a switch on the wall, the garden instantly lighting up with strings of tiny lights criss crossing overhead, and woven through the trellises and hung along the walls. The crowd of diners still left clap their hands just a few times, a few whispering “Beautiful!” and “Magnifique...”  
The night sky is just barely visible through the trees, but the lights from the city block out most of the stars, just a few twinkling over head in the inky blue.  
Castiel returns soon enough with a plate of the salad, potatoes, and a hunk of french bread warmed in the oven. A plate of olive oil and balsamic vinegar is put beside the bread, and a cup of coffee with milk and sugar placed to another side, with the final item being a glass of water with lemon slices and curling thin slices of cucumber inside.  
“Hm... I...”  
He bites his lip and can't seem to figure out the words, so just shrugs and speaks quickly in French.  
*"I'm sorry, I was so busy I didn't check to see if you wanted anything... Please, eat... It's on the house. Okay? Enjoy."*  
He smiles and tucks the tray he brought the food out on under his arm, turns back to go back inside the café.

***

When Castiel turns on the lights and the cozy yard turns into a sea of lights, Dean is tempted to join the choir of “Ooh” and “Aah”. He smiles widely as Castiel steps back outside, a tray with a large plate and two cups in hands, which he places directly in front of Dean. He can see that the man is conflicted, trying to express what he wants to say but obviously surrendering the language barrier and babbling a string of French words before turning around to leave. Dean reacts quickly, almost surprises himself, as he grabs the back of Castiel’s apron, holding him back. The man’s cheeks are bright red once more and Dean just wants to pinch them, but settles for another smile, accompanied by a curious expression.  
“Is this…” he points at the food and then back on himself “For me? Pour moi? Uhm… Pourquoi?”  
He clears his throat, trying to think of a reason why he deserves this impressive meal.  
“I didn’t order anything… err… C’est… Je ne… C’est ne pas for me…”  
He throws his head back and starts laughing. Gosh, his French is really more than ridiculous!

***

Castiel can’t help the slight grin that comes to his own face, which he quickly smoothes out with a clearing of his throat, going back to his normal slightly blank expression- but his eyes remain light, tracing Dean’s face as he speaks.  
“Oui, heu, c’est un cadeau.”  
He grimaces, and bites his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth with frustration before stumbling upon something he thinks might help. He touches his chest with one hand, then extends it outward like he’s handing Dean something. Castiel tilts his head to one side, frowning with a hopeful look on his face.  
*"Oh… Please understand… I have never wanted to speak English before you…"*  
“… Et merde.”  
He mutters under his breath, sighing gently. This was just… awkward. There was no way around it, this just wasn’t how he normally operated. Normally Castiel was calm, quick, efficient. He knew what he wanted to say and he said it. The language barrier wasn’t the only problem though. He could feel himself being nervous, jittery, just from having Dean’s eyes on him. Castiel’s spine still tingled from where the apron strings rested around his waist, having been tugged by Dean.

***

Dean bites his lip, considering Castiel’s last words and searching for the translation in his head. Cadeau… Cadeau… He’s got not the slightest idea what this could possibly mean… But then Castiel touches his chest, close to his heart and makes a gesture in his direction and Dean actually chokes for a second. Did he just… No, this would just be too obvious… Castiel doesn’t seem to be the type of guy who would flirt that openly, giving him his heart metaphorically. Still, something finally clicks and Dean raises an eyebrow.  
“A present?”, he asks, eyes wide and uncomprehending and when Castiel nods, still slightly embarrassed, the surprised look on his face turns into a wide smile “Thank you… Merci.”  
He wishes he could say more, there’s so many things in his head right now, fawning pick-up lines and sweet promises and he can’t translate a single one of them. So he thinks, whatever - he doesn’t understand anyway, so there’s no way Dean could make more of an idiot of himself.  
“I wish I could repay you in any way”, he smiles, licking his lips shortly, just to moisten the dry skin, as he looks up at the other man out of dark, green eyes “I bet you’re as sweet as those cupcakes I had earlier…”

***

Castiel smiles, blushing, when Dean finally gets it.  
‘Thank God…I thought I was going to have to get an English-French dictionary…’  
Then Dean is speaking again and Castiel frowns in concentration, trying to understand him. He recognizes the word ‘sweet’ and ‘cupcakes’, having heard it so many times before, and smiles broader.  
“Ah, merci!”  
He assumes that Dean is thanking him for the cupcakes from earlier, something about how sweet they were. They were made with beet sugar, touches of vanilla and lemon extract, and the frosting was made with a dash of rose water to give it a fragrant scent. They were celebrated throughout Le Havre as some of the best cupcakes in France, so he wasn’t surprised that Dean had liked them.  
“Dean…”  
Castiel frowns, unable to translate what he wants to say, so, once again, just speaks in French, his voice apologetic.  
*"I hope you enjoy the meal, please feel free to come back- anytime, alright?"*

***

Dean laughs at that, quiet and reserved as he doesn’t want Castiel to know how hilarious his reply to Dean’s statement really was. Castiel says his name and then some more French words and Dean frowns, shaking his head apologetically at the other man.  
“Your café… it’s really beautiful… uhm, le café est- beau? I love this place!”  
He shrugs and then picks up his fork, picking up a few lettuce leaves and guiding them to his lips. He chews for a few seconds, before opening his mouth again and continuing “And the food is wicked… Very bon!”

***

Castiel hugs the tray to his chest ever tighter, the blush in his cheeks obvious even in the dim light. He nods and then walks away quickly before he can stumble over anymore awkward conversation, leaving Dean to his food.  
Castiel goes back into the kitchen to start preparing the dough for tomorrow morning’s bread, knowing it would have to rise over night. He sings softly to himself, a French song from the sound, the words light on his lips, not even registering the significance of the words as they leave his throat.

“...Que veux-tu, je suis folle de toi  
Mon coeur ne bat plus quand je te vois  
Tu es beau, tu es grand, tu es fascinant  
T’as des chevaux, des poneys, faisons des enfants  
Quelle issue y a-t-il pour moi ?  
Mon corps ne bouge plus quand j’entends ta voix  
Tu es chaud comme un gant autour de mes doigts  
Mais ton regard de braise est tellement froid  
Charismatique, jean magnifique  
Trèfles à quatre feuilles sous les chevaux au galop  
Cet homme qui pique, sa force hippique  
A touché mon coeur dans sa chemise à carreaux…”

(translated for our readers:

What do you want, I’m crazy about you  
My heart doesn’t beat when I see you  
You’re handsome, you’re great, you’re amazing  
You have horses, ponies, let’s have children  
Which way out do you see for me  
My body doesn’t move when I hear your voice  
You’re hot like a glove around my fingers  
But your fiery eyes are so cold  
Charismatic, beautiful blue jeans  
Four-leaf clovers under the galloping horses  
This man who stings, his equestrian force  
Touched my heart with his plaid shirt)

Castiel’s voice is deep, lending to a softer, slower feel than the song normally had on French radio.  
The people were slowly starting to clear out, and only a half hour later there was only a few couples left near the entrance from the sea side street, cuddled on the benches under the trees, listening to the ocean’s waves wash up on the beach. The moon was high in the sky, a crescent, but it glittered over the waves, and shone on the beach enough that Castiel wished he didn’t have to spend the next two hours preparing for tomorrow.  
Maybe he would sneak out after closing and take a quick dip in the ocean, even though it wouldn’t be terribly warm right now. He sighs and places the last cloth over the bowl of dough, stuffing it into a cabinet along with the rest of the bowls holding different flavors of bread dough for tomorrow, and then starts in on the dishes.

***

The salad - of course - is just as delicious as the rest of the food Dean has tried so far, definitely nothing he would’ve chosen off a menu but something he now considers ordering again. He clears his plate, swallowing down even the tiniest leaf of lettuce, before setting down his fork and brushing a napkin over his oily lips. He lets his eyes wander over the scenery, the few remaining people outside and the ocean so very close to the café. He checks his watch, sighing softly at the late hour and sliding his laptop and notebook back into his bag, before getting up, carrying his plate and the glasses on top inside and setting them on the counter. He opens his mouth to say something, when he hears a quiet voice from within the kitchen. Putting down his bag, Dean takes two steps forward, leaning in the open door frame leading towards the kitchen and taking in the image before him. Castiel is kneeling in front of an oven, operating several buttons and control knobs, humming a sweet, French song under his breath. Dean can’t help but chuckle at that and when Castiel practically jumps at the sudden sound he raises his hands calmingly.  
“Sorry! Excusez-moi… I just wanted to say ‘bye’ and ‘good night’…”  
Castiel stands up, obviously embarrassed about getting caught at something like this and Dean tilts his head, looking at him with a small smile.  
“Bonne nuit.”, he says, a little softer, looking into Castiel’s eyes for just a few seconds longer, before turning around, grabbing his belongings and leaving the café. The way back down the beach and to his hotel doesn’t feel like 30 minutes, the image of Castiel’s firm butt, his wide blue eyes and the sound of his dark, smoothe voice on his mind…

***

Castiel smiles hesitantly back and nods.  
“Bonne nuit.”  
Castiel finishes the night out with a lump in his throat, the memory of Dean’s smiling face, dimples, dancing before his eyes everywhere he looks, like sun spots from looking directly at the sun.  
‘Too bright… too beautiful’, he thinks to himself, as he locks the garden gate for the night, staring out at the beach, the moon, taking everything in once more before heading back inside to finish closing up the café for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

The next two days Dean comes by, and Castiel is less and less surprised each time, but still, every time he sees the smiling face of the man, or hears a gentle ‘Good morning’, Castiel’s heart jumps a bit, and he can’t seem to help the flush that rushes to his cheeks.  
“Bonjour…”  
Today was the fourth day in a row that Dean had come to the café, and as usual, Dean was there like clockwork. Castiel smiles and tilts his head to one side, waiting for Dean’s order while wiping his hands off on his apron. Today he had made apricot preserve filled pastries, and was rather hoping to feed one to Dean and see what he thought – it was a new recipe, and Castiel was a little nervous about how it would go over.  
He also was hoping the Dean would speak more to him in English… He had actually caved and started reading his French to English dictionary that Gabriel had bought him years ago. Castiel had to wipe it clear of dust when he’d first plucked it from the bookshelf up in his room above the café, but so far he found that he was able to absorb far more than he thought he would be able to, and was eager to put his new found knowledge to use.

***

Not knowing about Castiel’s own efforts in the international understanding, Dean had downloaded a dictionary himself, always leaving one window with the program open when he set his laptop on his regulars’ table at the Petits Gâteaux. He preferred coming early, as the café was pretty popular among locals and he set great value on having a good view on the counter and parts of the kitchen, thank you very much. So he spent his days at Castiel’s place, telling himself that he came here to ‘work’ and because it was more quiet here, that he could concentrate better… Lying to himself had always been one of his specialties… Cause really, anywhere near the blue eyes man was about the worst place to concentrate for Dean Winchester. He had tried almost everything on the menu by now, wondering how on earth he didn’t already gain 10 pounds. So when Castiel comes up to him this morning, notepad and pen in hand, smiling at him as if Dean had just bought all of his goods at once, Dean returns the smile just as brightly and says “One cappucino, s’il vous plaît… And as for the dessert- just surprise me, okay?”

***

“ Je vais voir ce que je peux faire.” Castiel smiles and walks away, his steps lighter than they usually were. Castiel’s hair was a mess as always, but he had chosen the light blue button up with care, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows so he could use his hands efficiently as always. The apron around his waist was stained with mostly flour and a bit of chocolate sauce today, black slacks underneath hugging his lean form perfectly.  
He grabs the cappuccino quickly, sprinkling the top with a tiny bit of cinnamon, the leaf he made with the cream in the dark coffee perfect today. He grabs the apricot pastry and places it in the microwave for a moment, popping it back out and placing the tiny square of dark chocolate on top to melt slowly over the warm pastry.  
Castiel walks back out and places both items in front of Dean after clearing his throat to announce his arrival.  
“Bon appétit.”  
Castiel folds his hands in front of him and waits quietly, this having become a traditional in only a few days. Castiel would wait until Dean had taken the first sip of coffee or bite of food, trying to remain calm until he heard what Dean had to say. Today was especially tense, considering the new recipe. Castiel bites the inside of his cheek and waits, wide eyed and hopeful.

***

The pastry Castiel serves him today is not too flashy, only dough filled with something like orange jam and a tiny piece of chocolate on top. But Dean trusts Castiel - which is weird, as they know each other barely, only having talked a few times in this past week - and so he knows that whatever he would bring him, Dean would love it. He chips off a piece of the pastry, picking it up with the fork and closing his lips around it, his eyes directed at Castiel, as he lets the small piece of cake melt on his tongue. And Jesus Christ did this hit home! It was like an explosion of taste and pleasure and a piece of heaven and Dean closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, before looking back at Castiel, his lips forming a silent “Nom de Dieu!”  
Castiel smiles widely at him and once again Dean just wants to pinch his cheeks - or lick his mouth open… Dean tries to concentrate, he really does… He’s not made much progress in the past few days, still having to shape a few characters for the new book. It wasn’t very complicated, not a thriller or anything he had to make up clever connections and a breathtaking cliffhanger ending for… But nonetheless - the characters were always important. So when he’s thinking about character traits for Claire, the girlfriend of his main character, he decides that yeah… Claire is a great cook… and… Claire sings, while cooking… Dean smiles to himself as he adds those ideas to his notes, looking up just in time to see Castiel balancing a tray full of coffee mugs and plates past him, and chuckling to himself, as he sees the other man smiling back at him.

***

Castiel hums as he cleans, serves up iced tea, and makes fresh lemonade for the afternoon, the weather warming once again. By 3pm the café is packed with locals, and he has to call his sister, Anna, in to help him.  
*”My god Castiel why didn’t you tell me there were this many people?!”*  
*”Because then you wouldn’t have agreed to come help!”*  
He flashes the redhead a grin and then rushes around, getting orders from everyone and instructing them to go sit outside or take a seat in one of the few chairs inside the café’s small interior.  
Luckily, Anna knows the ropes. She and Castiel work like a well-oiled machine together, dodging one another as they carry trays of steaming Shepard’s pies, lemon custard tarts, and blackberry pies past one another. She sings as well, and it’s funny how the higher voice matches perfectly with his, and soon the café is filled with the smells of the freshly baked pies, pastries and cookies, and their harmonic voices.  
Castiel laughs when she’s around, face lighting up, and for a few moments he forgets about Dean- until Anna spots him.  
*”Oh, my, god….Castiel!…Who is the gorgeous tourist with the computer?”*  
*”What…? Oh-…Um… That’s Dean.”*  
*”Dean hm? First name basis eh Castiel?”*  
She nudges him with her elbow as she finishes drying off a wine glass, winking at her brother conspiratorially. Castiel blushes furiously and she gapes at him.  
*”No… You like him?!”*  
*”Shhh! Anna… Please? Do not- ANNA...”*  
It was too late, the redhead was already flouncing out the café door with a glass of water and a cookie in her hands. She was beautiful, and everyone had told her so her entire life, so Anna didn’t need to emphasize it with makeup or skimpy clothing. She wore a plain gray t-shirt with short sleeves, her curling red hair held back in a ponytail that brushed her shoulders and cascaded down her back. The warmer weather had her wearing short jean shorts, cutoffs, behind the knee length apron she wore around her waist in the same style as Castiel’s. She walks right over to Dean and sets the water and cookie down, then speaks in a clipped French accent, her English remarkably better than her brother’s.  
“Bonjour, ‘ow are you liking France so far?”

***

Dean had watched Castiel and the unknown redhead for a while now, part amused by how they kept chanting together, part disappointed and - yes, insanely jealous of how happy Castiel seemed around her, smiling and laughing and standing close to her all the time. Dean sighs and looks back at his computer, minimizing the window with the English - French dictionary just as he hears a soft, feminine voice close to him. Raising his head he takes in the beautiful, slender form of the redheaded girl, returning her smile politely after only a few seconds.  
“Bonjour Mademoiselle”, he says, pushing away his laptop and crossing his legs “I haven’t seen much yet- but I really like this place…”  
He gestures around and winks at her.  
“You're a friend of Castiel?”

***

“Oui, a close friend.”  
She purses her lips slightly and then sits in the chair opposite Dean, crossing her arms which just seemed to emphasize her breasts.  
“ 'ow long will you be staying en France?”  
She tilts her head to one side, a coy smile crossing her lips as she looks Dean over, all too obviously. Anna wasn't shy. She was the opposite of Castiel in that, and took what she wanted, when she wanted. However, right now, she was just gauging this guy's reactions, hoping to test him a bit and see what he wanted with her baby brother.

***

Dean clears his throat at that, more than displeased with her reply but not keen on letting her see that.  
“Three months for now… Or until the doc considers me healthy enough.”, Dean says and shrugs his shoulders, chuckling at the girl’s cocked eyebrow, and points at himself. ”Heavy smoker… I’m here to get rid of this… nasty habit.”  
He pulls out the electric cigarette he had bought back home in Lawrence and demonstrates it.  
“I don’t really like it, though.”, he sighs, when he puts in back into his jeans pocket.  
Leaning back again and taking another sip of his coffee, he lets his eyes wander over to where Castiel is standing behind the counter, selling candy to some kids and seeming ridiculously happy. When he directs his attention back to the girl, she had shifted closer, one hand lying almost innocently on his right leg. He raises an eyebrow and then smiles, putting his own hand over hers.  
“Sorry, sweetie, not on your team.”

***

Anna smirks and arches a brow.  
*”That is exactly what I was hoping for.”*  
“I...wish you good luck with ze...habit..kickeng.”  
She pats his leg twice and then stands back up, walking back inside behind the counter where she swirls around Castiel, whispering something in one ear, and Castiel looks up and out the window at Dean, eyes wide, and then she's whispering something in the other ear, and Castiel's face goes from it's normal pale color to bright red. He quickly looks away from Dean and back down at the children in front of him, smiling hesitantly and giving them their candy, before turning his back to the window, and Dean, to glare at his sister.  
*”What did you do?!”*  
Castiel hisses at her, his voice low and quick.  
*”Nothing! ...Well... I flirted, just a bit.”*  
Castiel blanches, looking like he's seen a ghost, and Anna holds up her hands, laughing softly.  
*”He didn't respond! ... Really... He said something about 'not your team'... I think he meant that he too is gay...”*  
Castiel mutters something under his breath and walks into the back of the kitchen to busy himself with dishes. Anna turns around to deal with more customers, and looks up to see Dean watching, of course. She smiles a wide smile and winks at him, much the way he had winked at her earlier.

***

When the girl just gets up and goes back inside, she leaves Dean with a slightly confused look. He was used getting hit on by women but none of them usually gave up that easily… Maybe his effect on french women wasn’t as strong as back in the US… His eyes follow her until she reaches Castiel and whispers something in his ear something that makes him blush. Like, his cheeks flushing really fucking dark red. Dean can’t suppress a chuckle and has to raise a hand to his mouth in order to not laugh out loud. Dean’s an expert on flirting and reading signs and this right there? Chances were pretty high that Anna had checked him out and had just reported back to Castiel, that Dean was indeed gay. He licks his lips at this notion, shutting his laptop and leaning back, raising a hand when Castiel looks over shortly. The other man seems to hesitate to come over and Dean basks in the glory of an utterly embarrassed Castiel for the few seconds it takes him to reach Dean’s table.  
“Another coffee, s’il vous plaît.”, he says quietly, smiling at Castiel and adding a cheerful “Your friend is nice… A bit cheeky but nice.”

***

Castiel swallows around the lump in his throat when he sees Dean motion to him, his legs feeling like lead as he walks over, trying not to trip over his own feet.  
“Ah... yes, un cappuccino, d'accord.”  
He tilts his head at what Dean said, and then when Dean motions to Anna with a nod of his head Castiel blushes and shakes his head.  
*”My sister... She is sometimes over eager for me to make new friends.”*  
He frowns, and speaks again, this time in English.  
“Anna...”   
He points to her, and then touches his own chest.  
“My sister.”  
Castiel grimaces, realizing that he probably wasn't getting across what he was trying to get across, which was that Anna was impetuous and impish and sometimes just downright cruel when it came to trying to set Castiel up on countless dates. None of which panned out of course, because Castiel really didn't have an interest in dating. Not really... Just lately...Whenever Dean was around, the idea of a date didn't sound half bad.

***

Dean exhales audibly at Castiel’s words and his smile immediately gets wider.  
“That’s good.”, he says, relief obvious in his voice and then winks at the other man “I’m not too good sharing what I want.”  
He’s still pretty sure, Castiel doesn’t understand half of what he’s saying so he blames Castiel’s embarrassed little laugh on the fact that he doesn’t get what he’s talking about. Breathing in the fresh air, Dean looks over to the beach a little longingly and back at Castiel.  
“You sure get to take a break, right? Uhm… Un pause? You wanna take a walk… at the beach? À le mer?”  
He motions in the general direction of the beach, really hoping that Castiel gets the message this time…

***

Castiel hesitates, understanding what Dean means, but not sure if it's a good idea. He looks around and notices that most of the customers seem content with the food, either just starting or halfway through. There's a soft whistle from the window and Anna leans out of it, reaching out to flick Castiel on the forehead lightly.  
“Allez, Castiel.”  
Castiel's eyes get wide and he makes a face that obviously means 'Stop it, Anna', but the redhead just smiles and looks at Dean.  
“You... Ah... How do you say... Owe me?”  
Castiel frowns and looks between the two of them, knowing from Anna's wicked smile that something was up. He narrows his eyes but undoes the apron, tossing it in Anna's face then holding out a hand to Dean, blue eyes wide and waiting.  
“Allons-y.”  
Castiel gives Dean the smallest of smiles, just a quirk of one corner of his lips, but the movement instantly softens his face, and a dimple just starts to show up in that cheek from the tiny smile.

***

Dean grins at Anna and mouths a ‘Thanks’, before returning his gaze on Castiel. He’s eyeing the stretched out hand, amused, for a moment and then takes it, letting Castiel help him up and stepping supposedly accidentally a little too much into Castiel’s personal space. Fortunately the other man doesn’t seem to mind, as his cheeks only flush even darker, something Dean can appreciate so much more now that their noses are barely a few inches apart. He smiles at Castiel, squeezing his hand gently before letting go of it and stepping back just a bit. He turns to speak to Anna again, but she’s already there, collecting his laptop and bag, bringing them inside and storing them away safely.  
Dean lets Castiel lead the way, following him through the narrow aisle past the tables and the numerous guests and he doesn’t miss the quiet mutter arising when they pass the regular customers. It’s not too hard to conclude that Castiel isn’t really the outgoing, flirting kind of guy and Dean smiles to himself at that observation… The beach is really just right there, soft, white sand starting at the foot of the stairs leading up to the café and Dean quickly slips out of his shoes, wanting to feel the grains of sand in between his toes. He looks back up at Castiel, who had watched him with silent interest. A few seconds pass, then Castiel too leans down and undoes the laces of his shoes, mirroring Dean’s movements.  
“So, Castiel...”, he starts, as they’re walking down the beach, just at the surf, letting their feet get cooled by the ocean water “You grew up here? In Le Havre?”  
The conversation starts out slowly, Dean trying to slip in as many French words as he possibly could without the help of his dictionary, trying to articulate himself literally with hands and feet. It’s weird and exhausting but Dean doesn’t feel the same annoyance he had felt while talking to Jérôme… This was… different, somehow… He couldn’t exactly put a finger on the ‘why’ but he started to really like this guy more than he had expected… More than it could possibly be good for both of them…  
The time flies and before they know it, it’s late afternoon, the sun setting at the horizon and Castiel literally jumping when he looks down at his watch. Dean has to hold him back from running back to the café and once they reach the stairs, he grabs Castiel’s wrist, keeping him in place for just a moment. As he leans in he can hear Castiel’s surprised gasp, can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage and his skin trembling. His lips barely brush Castiel’s earlobe as he whispers a quiet “Thank you for today”. They stay like this for another few seconds, Castiel now absolutely still against him. Then Dean lets go of his wrist, sliding past the unmoving man and walking up the stairs first. Anna leans in the door frame when they reach the café and she looks part pissed and part proud, which is a weird combination, even for Dean’s standards. He smiles apologetically at her and doesn’t complain, when she basically shoves his bag into his arms and scoots outside to scold her brother. Dean throws a guilty look over at Castiel but the other man - barely listening to his sister - returns it with a soft smile.  
When Dean slides into a cab back to his hotel five minutes later, he’s exhausted and his feet hurt - but every piece of his skin that Castiel had touched seems to glow, every memory of their conversations, the way Castiel had laughed at Dean’s horrible French, making his body all warm and tingly. The moment the hotel door falls shut behind him, Dean sinks down against it, his hand finding its way inside his pants naturally and when he comes it’s hard and hot, Castiel’s name on his lips.

***

*”You owe me Castiel!”*  
*”I know I know, I'm sorry Anna... I just... Lost track of the time...”*  
Anna glares at him, then rolls her eyes and bumps him with her hip.  
*”SO? Tell me EVERYTHING.”*

It's closing time and all the customers have left, leaving the siblings to clean up the café and courtyard. Anna and Castiel once again make the perfect team, and it only takes an hour before everything is cleaned up, and they're now making the dough for tomorrow's bread. Anna measures things that Castiel puts in front of her, flour, yeast, salt, milk, eggs, raisins, cinnamon, nutmeg, walnuts. He turns on the mixer and starts pouring the ingredients, hoping that they would get too busy with this for her to ask him more questions.  
*”Well?”*  
'Et merde.', he thinks to himself, but smiles and shakes his head.  
*”It was really quite nice... He was polite, not overly handsy like some of the men I've gone on dates with. I think he's as nervous as I am, despite the overly confident exterior... Which is so cute.”*  
Anna giggles and jumps up and down, then prods Castiel to keep going.  
*”I tried to tell him how I got the café, but I don't think he understood. I'm teaching myself English-”*  
*”YOU ARE?”* She gapes at him, jaw open and eyes wide.  
*”...Yes... Shut up Anna, I know.”* He laughs though, the soft embarrassed smile on his face showing that he knows it's a little ridiculous to finally give into the need to learn English for a man.  
*”... He's only going to be here three months Castiel. Something about his Doctor sending him here.”*  
*”I know...”*  
They're quiet for a moment, before Anna starts in on Castiel for being gone so long, and then the atmosphere is back to normal- jokes, laughter, singing while they prepare for tomorrow.  
It's almost 1am by the time Anna leaves, a few glasses of wine in her and a basket of leftovers under one arm.  
*”Goodnight Castiel, love you!”*  
*”Love you too Anna... Be safe.”*  
Castiel shuts all the windows and doors, then goes upstairs and lies down on his bed, looking out the window at the waxing moon, shimmering on the ocean. He shivers, both from the memory of Dean's hand on his wrist, so firm and strong, and from the cool evening air.  
It doesn't take long for Castiel to bring himself to a climax, the image of Dean pressing him into the bed and taking him strong and fast enough to make his head swim, breath come in shorts pants, murmuring over and over the only thing that comes to mind.  
“Dean...”

***

Dean sleeps well that night, his dreams filled with images of Castiel in realistic and… not so realistic poses. When he wakes up the sun is already burning brightly and checking the clock Dean realizes it’s already late noon. He gets up, showers quickly and grabs his laptop before leaving the room. He walks quickly - almost runs - and makes it to the Petits Gâteaux in less than 20 minutes. Castiel is nowhere to be seen, when Dean enters the interior of the café, instead there’s a bright red shock of hair bobbing up and down just beyond the counter.  
“Bonjour Ann.a”, Dean says and smiles when Castiel’s sister raises her head and returns the smile “Castiel est là?”  
He leans forward, letting his gaze wander over the people sitting outside, the café being stuffed with customers and Dean’s table already being occupied. And Castiel isn’t outside as well…

***

“Bonjour, Dean.”  
She giggles slightly and then shakes her head.  
“Non... Castiel went to ze market...We... How you say... Needed milk.”  
She gestures to the group of around 12 school age children in one corner, glasses in front of them obviously chocolate milk, and each was on their second or third glass. They were currently busy having a bubble blowing contest, and chocolate milk was frothing and bubbling and splashing all over the tables. Giggles and laughter erupted from that corner, and Anna smiled fondly before looking back at Dean.  
“Ze market est... Up ze street, at ze corner of Rue Roi Albert and Rue Reine Elisabeth...You could catch him there?”  
She raises her eyebrows suggestively, before walking around the counter to clear a table for two customers who were waiting, staring at Dean from beside him curiously.  
*”Anna?”*  
*”Yes Pascal?”*  
*”Who is this man? What does he want with our Castiel?”*  
The older gentleman held his wife's hand in the crook of his arm, frowning slightly at Dean and looking between him and Anna nervously.  
*”Hush hush now Pascal... Don't scare away the poor man. He thinks Castiel is interesting... I would like to see where that leads.”*  
*”... Hmph.”*  
Pascal frowns at Dean then leads his wife to the table to sit, Anna moving back behind the counter before turning to Dean.  
*”Well? What are you waiting for?”*  
“Go!”

***

Dean watches Anna leading the elder couple to their table and jumps a little when she addresses him again. He raises his hands defensively and grins at her, before turning around and leaving the café again. He follows the street until he hears the buzzing of dozens of voices. The market isn’t that big and he lets his eyes scoot over the crowd, finally spotting Castiel standing at a dairy stall. Dean smiles to himself, as he crosses the small place, stopping only for a minute to buy a single blue cornflower, before stepping right behind the other man. He stretches out his hand, letting the flower brush gently over Castiel’s bare neck and Dean chuckles at the startled look on Castiel’s face, as he spins around.  
“Hey handsome”, he smiles, handing the still surprised man the flower and stepping back a little, to give him some space “Anna said I’d find you here. Lemme help you bring those back”, he adds, pointing at the several bottles of milk to Castiel’s feet

***

Castiel takes the flower hesitantly, blushing bright red and looking around at the curious faces that glance towards the odd couple in the middle of the market. He licks his lips and looks up at Dean, speaking softly, his eyes showing surprise, a quirk of a smile starting to show at the corner of his lips.  
“Merci... Uh... Thank you, Dean.”  
Castiel tucks the flower away inside his shirt, just the bloom showing out the top of the black button up, bright against his pale skin.  
He nods and grabs half of the order, the two gallons he's carrying heavy, but not terribly so.  
“Anna? Je vois...”  
Castiel waits until Dean has the bottles before walking out of the market, smiling and nodding to people who greet him or say goodbye as they walk away. It's not a long walk back to the café, so Castiel takes his time, looking over at Dean with a shy smile again.  
“You...-Comment dire...”  
He bites his lower lip and frowns, trying to think of the right word before remembering it with a grin.  
“You stalk me, yes?”  
'I hope that's right...', Castiel thinks to himself, wondering if it's possible he's phrased what he meant entirely wrong. 'I think that's the right word for tracking someone down'. He looks up at Dean with wide curious eyes, waiting for the reaction to his garbled English.

***

Dean stops at that, staring at Castiel for a few seconds before composing himself again and nodding.  
“Well… Yeah… I guess I am.”, he says, smiling now.  
He’s almost definitely sure that Castiel didn’t mean to say ‘stalk’ but he’s not too wrong with it anyway, so Dean just goes with it.  
“And once I figure out which window’s yours, I’m gonna watch you undressing, too.”, he adds and has to laugh at his own words. Damn, this is so fucked up… Dean had always been all for open flirtation but this was different. He was really interested in Castiel and the fact that he understood only half of what Dean was saying made things so much more difficult… So this thing… Dean talking English, saying things he would probably never say if Castiel was fluent in this language - it was both entertaining and incredibly frustrating. He shakes his head, when he sees Castiel’s questioning look and they make their way back to the café in silence. They put down the bottles in the kitchen, Castiel stuffing them away in the large fridge before turning around to thank Dean for helping him. Dean just smiles and mutters a “De rien.” before stepping out of the kitchen and looking around outside. Most of the tables are still occupied and Dean decides to stay inside today. He’s sitting down at the table closest to the counter, smiling at Cas, who seems to be a bit overwhelmed by so much attention.

***

Castiel licks his lips nervously. With Dean this close, he could almost smell his shampoo or aftershave, and it was making it incredibly hard to concentrate. Castiel tries to distract himself by making Dean his normal cappuccino, and picking out a pastry for him, which he plates and then walks over to Dean.  
“Un cappuccino et... an apple... pastry.”  
He makes a face like 'Did I get that right?', before setting both down and smiling at Dean, making the same gesture as before when he'd told Dean it was a gift.  
“For you.”  
Castiel gives Dean a soft half smile and then walks back behind the counter, starting in on the recipe for dinner that night, a fish dish, une sole Meunière. He had an over abundance of lemons from the tree on the rooftop, and needed to use them before they went bad, so lately everything was made with, topped with, or flavored with lemons.  
A man walks into the café from outside and over to Castiel, sliding a hand around his waist and kissing him softly on the cheek Castiel frowns softly but laughs, looking over at the dirty blonde haired man, then stiffening and looking over at Dean after remembering he was right there. The man follows Castiel's gaze and his eyes light up as he sees who Castiel was looking at. He walks out from behind the counter and straight up to Dean, holds out a hand, a cheeky grin on his face.  
“Hello. My name is Gabriel, what is your name, gorgeous?”  
Cas//tiel is bright red in the background, his head down as he pipes frosting onto cupcakes, but eyes flicking back up every other second as he watches the interactions between Dean and Gabriel.

***

Dean can’t help a displeased sound at the ambiguous greeting, the touching and kissing, and the frown on his face doesn’t seem all too welcoming, as Gabriel stretches out his hand, introducing himself to Dean. He takes the offered hand tentatively, pulling his own back after one, two shakes, still looking up at Gabriel warily.  
“I’m Dean”, he says briefly, looking back at Castiel who seems part tense, part intrigued “Dean Winchester. And I’m not interested, thanks.”

***

Gabriel smirks and pulls his hand back, raising it in a casually dismissive gesture.  
“Of course you're not... But you are interested in my cousin, that much is obvious, Mister Dean Winchester.”  
He wiggles his brow at Dean and then walks away, back over to stand beside Castiel, speaking in low tones, and obviously in French as Castiel speaks back, not looking up from where he's finishing off another dozen miniature cupcakes to look like daisies.  
*”So, this is the guy that Anna was talking about?”*  
*”... If by the guy that Anna's been talking about, you mean the guy she wasn't supposed to tell anyone about, then sure!”*  
Castiel sighs and look over at Gabriel out of the corner of his eyes.  
*”Really Gabriel? Must you start things the moment you get here? You've been back for five minutes and I already want you to leave again.”*  
Gabriel fakes being hurt, holding his hand to his chest, before he grins and Castiel can't help but grin back, Gabriel wrapping an arm around Castiel's waist once more and hugging him close. This time Castiel actually sets down the frosting tube and hugs the other man back tight.  
*”I did miss you, you trouble maker.”*  
*”I know you did Castiel... And I only start trouble because you won't start it yourself.”*  
Castiel pulls back and flicks a quick glance at Dean before looking back at Gabriel.  
*”He's only going to be here for three months... More like two and half now...”*  
*”So?... That's two and a half months you could be spending in his arms, doing the naughty.”*  
*”Gabriel!”*  
There's a short burst of laughter as Castiel covers his mouth with his hand, blushing bright red yet again, and Gabriel grins, face full of mischief, and shrugs.  
*”I'm just saying that it's about time you got some Castiel.”*  
*”...You know I don't want just that though Gabriel.”*  
*”I know. So work on the other while you have sex with him.”*  
Castiel pales and looks over at Dean before looking quickly back at Gabriel.  
*”Seriously...stop.”*  
*”Okay, sorry Cassy..”*  
Gabriel kisses his cheek again, a quick peck, then grabs one of the cupcakes and scoots quickly out of the café and into the courtyard before Castiel can smack him with the spatula he'd grabbed for just that task.  
*”Brat!”*  
*”You LOVE ME!”*  
Castiel smiles and shakes his head, laughing slightly before looking back at Dean. The loose smile fades and is replaced by a soft half smile again, his eyes lingering on Dean's face for a moment, before he walks back behind the counter to finish a cupcake to replace the one Gabriel stole.

***

Watching Castiel with his siblings was… interesting. Dean had instantly liked Anna but Gabriel here… It wasn’t his brashness or the way he had seemed to have flirted with Dean even though he was positive that Dean was indeed interested in his cousin… no… Most of all, Dean was pissed off about the close physical contact the guy had with Castiel. Touching where Dean would like to touch, kissing where Dean would like so lick and suck and teasing out a small chuckle when Dean wanted to be the one to make Castiel laugh and gasp and moan. He has to avert his eyes, watching them out of the corner of his eyes and only relaxing when Gabriel leaves the café to strut outside. Dean grabs his mug, taking a sip of the now-cold coffee and pulling out his laptop demonstratively. Yes, he was jealous and yes, he knew it was probably absolutely ridiculous as this was Castiel’s COUSIN and as close as both of them had seemed, Dean couldn’t imagine more between the two of them… Just thinking about somebody else touching Castiel made him furious… Jesus, he was already starting to get protective… Dean sighed as he opened up Microsoft Word, staring at the blank new page. He would never be able to concentrate with thoughts like this…

***

Castiel could tell that Dean was irritated about something, but he wasn't sure what. He stood behind the counter, cleaning things and fixing a few things for a moment or two, before he couldn't stand it. The idea that perhaps Gabriel had offended Dean was at the forefront of his mind. Castiel puts the dish cloth he had in his hands down and walks over to sit in the chair beside Dean, waiting until he looked up from his laptop.  
“I... Sorry... For Gabriel.”  
He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head, gesturing with his fingers that Gabriel was a little bit crazy at times, hoping that Dean got it.  
*”He means well, really... He's just not... thoughtful.”*  
“Gabriel... Sweet... mais pas le plus intelligent...”  
He shrugs and pats Dean's hand with his own, blushing when once again a spark of electricity zaps from one of them to the other and quickly withdrawing his hand again.  
“Un autre café?”  
He picks up the coffee cup and walks quickly back into the kitchen, dumping the cold coffee out and refilling it with hot. Castiel moved like a butterfly, flitting from one thing to the next, as if he just couldn't hold still or he would get captured by something. Or someone.  
He comes back with the coffee, refreshed and hot, and sets it down with a smile.

***

Before Dean can reply or - like he had wanted to - reach out to take Castiel’s hand again, the other man stands up and disappears into the kitchen, from where he returns only seconds later with a refilled cup of coffee. Dean smiles and mutters a “Thank you”, motioning Castiel to sit down again.  
“It’s okay”, he then says, looking at Castiel until he’s sure the other gets what he’s saying and how he means it. He bites his lip, thinking for a moment, then hiding his face in both of his hands.  
“God, I hate this”, he finally sighs, shaking his head in frustration “I just-… I just wanna talk to you and all we can do is… guess what we’re trying to say.”  
He reaches out to shut his laptop, taking a huge gulp of his coffee, before getting up.  
“I’m sorry… I should go… Bonne nuit, Castiel. See you tomorrow.”  
And with that he exits the café, leaving Castiel as confused as he himself is.

***

Castiel watches Dean go, his face falling as he realizes that Dean is actually leaving.  
“Goodnight... Dean.”  
He says quietly, once the other man has already left. Castiel gets up and finishes preparing for the dinner rush, quickly making everything, and he's not surprised when there's only handful of people. The night goes slowly, and there are several times he finds himself daydreaming about Dean coming back, another walk on the beach, this one actually ending with a kiss. But it doesn't happen. Dean doesn't come back that night, nor the next day... Nor the day after that.  
Castiel finds that his days seem so much longer now that he doesn't have Dean there to distract him, and that he actually misses the other man's presence, more than he thought possible.  
He spends his time reading his Dictionary though, and getting quizzed on English from both Gabriel and Anna, even though he protests at times.  
Castiel sighs on the seventh day of not seeing Dean, throwing down the dictionary with a huff of annoyance.  
*”What is the point of this?! He's not coming back. It's been a week and I haven't seen him once!”*  
*”Castiel... He's a writer, perhaps the café was just too busy for him lately?”*  
Castiel glares at his sister, who glares right back until Castiel mumbles a quick 'Désolé' and sighs again.  
*”You're right, I know...”*  
*”In English Castiel!”*  
*”Fine...”*  
He clears his throat and speaks again, this time in English, his accent surprisingly having cleared up far more than either Gabriel or Anna would have thought possible. He would never tell either of them it was from watching American TV shows.  
“You're right... I know...”  
Anna claps her hands.  
“Good good... Now let's go over these phrases again okay?”  
“Okay.”  
Castiel and Anna spend the morning with the dictionary once again, the crowds not being that big on an early Tuesday morning.

***

Dean walks home that afternoon, taking his time wandering down the beach back to his hotel, thinking. There’s definitely something there between him and Castiel… And even though he’s usually not the type for romantic phrases and metaphors, Dean can’t deny that he’s falling for Cas… He sighs at this realization, sinking down in the soft sand and lying back, staring in the slowly setting sun. What was he supposed to do with those feelings? He’s never done this… Relationships, love… Those were foreign words to him - even in his own language - and it somehow terrified him, thinking about actually doing this, about letting someone… letting Castiel in his heart. He knew that his time in France was limited, that he was supposed to go back to the US at some point in the next three months, but then he thought about leaving Cas, about not being able to see his face every day, and he realizes that this prospect hurts much more than anything else…  
Dean doesn’t return to the café for almost a week, spending literally day and night with learning - or trying to learn - French. It’s hard, though, the language, the grammar, the pronunciation and that’s why he can’t go see Castiel cause as much as he misses him- the guy is so fucking distracting with his bright blue eyes and his sinful mouth and those slender hips he kept swinging tauntingly right under Dean’s nose…  
He’s on the phone with Jess every day, ignoring Sam’s teasing comments about Dean’s French lover and letting Jess translate words and phrases he wants to say, writing everything down in his notebook (the one he’s supposed to use for taking notes for his book)… It’s late Thursday night when Dean finally makes his way over to the Petits Gâteaux, entering the place from the stairs in the back and walking through the almost empty yard, lights gleaming over the heads of the few customers and illuminating the path softly. Dean’s table is free and so he sits down, waiting for Castiel to come out patiently.

***

Castiel walks out with a trayer full of hot cocoas for some customers on the other end of the yard, not even noticing Dean in the dimly lit area until he's on his way back with the empty tray tucked under one arm. Castiel wears a black v-neck shirt today, tight against his skin unlike most of the other shirts he's worn which have been at least a little loose. His hair is messy as usual, and he wears boot cut jeans beneath the apron. He does a double take when he sees Dean sitting in his normal spot, and a bright grin breaks over his face. Castiel walks over and, while he itches to hug Dean, just reaches out to touch his hand.  
“Hello Dean....”  
He nods gently and then speaks again in French, still not quite confident in putting together phrases in english, even though he understands far, far more than he did a little over a week ago.  
“Qu'est-ce que tu veux boire?”  
Castiel makes a drinking motion, then points to the café itself, and waits for Dean's answer.

***

Dean returns the smile just as brightly, shivering when Castiel touches his hand and taking a moment to enjoy the soft, tingling feeling this touch leaves on his skin.  
“Uhm… Surprend moi?”, he finally says, an awkward smile on his lips, as he’s watching Castiel, hoping he used the right words “Just, anything you think is appropriate for an insensitive idiot like me.”, he adds a little more quietly, not really expecting Castiel to understand. He felt bad for not coming by for such a long time, although he wasn’t entirely sure if Castiel had actually noticed. But he didn’t seem pissed at him and he certainly seemed to be happy to see him, so Dean was kind of relieved for the moment…  
He waits for Castiel to return impatiently, his fingers thrumming on the table, his eyes not leaving the entrance. When Castiel appears in the doorway, it hits Dean like a brick. It’s actually gotten worse that past week… Every fiber of his body screams for Dean to touch him, to push him down on a bed and have his way with him and it costs all of his resistance, not to do either or both…

***

Castiel returns with a slice of apple pie a la mode, the ice cream melting on the warm apple slice quickly, and a cup of warm alcoholic apple cider, topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon and an actual cinnamon stick stuck into it.  
“Enjoy.”  
He smiles and sits down in the chair opposite Dean, waiting for a reaction as always. He knew Dean was American, and supposedly there was nothing more American than apple pie, so Castiel had been baking them like crazy the past week, just hoping that Dean would come back to try one. And here he was, and Castiel fidgeted in his chair while he waited for what he hoped was a good reaction.  
He and Anna and Gabriel had worked hard the past week, the two taking turns teaching Castiel so he was practically learning around the clock, being tested on english words and phrases, learning specific things that Gabriel thought would be useful that just made Castiel blush. Now Dean was here, and Castiel was so shy about using what he'd learned he couldn't say more than one or two words at a time without blushing.

***

Apple pie was one of the few things that could cheer Dean up, regardless of how desperate or angry he was. So when Castiel sets the plate down right in front of Dean, smiling cheerfully at him, Dean doesn’t waste much time, cutting off a piece of cake and letting it slip inside his mouth. It’s good. Hell, it was the best freaking apple pie he’d ever had - except for his mother’s, of course - and judging from Castiel’s happy smile, he had read Dean’s low groan correctly.  
“Jesus”, Dean mutters, licking ice cream off his lips and taking another bite “I don’t care if I’m getting fat, I need another piece of this… Une deuxième part s'il te plaît!”  
Dean eats three pieces of cake in the end, slumping back into his chair after the last one and emptying his fourth glass of wine. He’s tipsy by now, his still poor French coming out slurred but more brisk by now.  
“Tu es magnifique… Ton café est sensationnel-… Everything you make is delicious!”  
He raises a hand to brush through his short hair, laughing to himself quietly.

***

Castiel was overjoyed that Dean loved the pie that much, the recipe was one he had found online and made tweaks too, more vanilla, a touch of cinnamon and the tiniest dash of cayenne pepper in the apple mixture itself, giving everything a warmth that most apple pies would have missing. He smiles openly and claps a hand over his mouth, muffling the joyous chuckle that escapes at Dean's slurred French.  
“Heu, Dean, tu en veux encore?”  
Castiel waits with his hands folded in front of himself, over his groin, which helps remind him not to get too happy about all this. Dean had come back, and it was fairly obvious that he had learned more French, which made Castiel's body sing. He was trying hard not to think that Dean had learned French for the same reason he had learned English- just to be able to speak to the other. But the way Dean was smiling at him, cheeks flushed and eyes happy, it was hard not to.  
The café was empty but for the two of them at this point, and normally Castiel would have closed up 15 minutes ago, and indeed he had shut and locked the front door and the back gate, but he didn't want Dean to leave, not yet, so hadn't told him it was closing time.  
'Just a few more minutes', Castiel told himself, and basked further in the heat he could feel coming from Deans' form.

***

Dean shakes his head softly, saying “Nah, I’m good” and then pulling another chair closer, patting on the seating surface of it and motioning Cas to sit down.  
Dean too had noticed that the other guests had left long ago and he doesn’t see the point in holding back now anymore.  
“We’re all alone, Cas”, he says, his voice deep and smooth, his tongue darting out so lick over his already wet with alcohol lips “God, the things I wanna do to you…”  
He reaches out one hand to touch Castiel’s knee, looking up at him out of dark, green eyes.  
“I bet you have whipped cream inside… Wonder how you’d sound if I was licking it off your chest… I would hold you down with one hand and pull down your pants with the other… And you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”  
Once again he licks his lips, before leaning his head back, staring into the night sky above and sighing, laughing quietly to himself. It really was frustrating… Even though he now knew half of the French words he needed, he still somehow wasn’t able to say what he really wanted to… When his gaze falls on Castiel again, all cheekiness and boldness is gone, his eyes flicking to Castiel’s lips longingly.  
When he speaks again eventually, his voice is quiet and a bit desperate and it sends shivers down Castiel’s spine.  
“I really wanna kiss you right now…”


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel was suddenly not sure whether he really hated knowing every word that just poured so seductively out of Dean's perfect mouth, or if he absolutely loved it. His cock sure did, jumping to attention and tenting his pants beneath the apron so quickly he had to swallow back the desperate moan that wanted to escape. How could English be so sexy? Wasn't it supposed to be an ugly language? And yet here Dean was, lips and tongue curling around the words in such a way that made Castiel want to give anything to be a noun, or maybe a vowel, endlessly moaned through Dean's lips.  
He shivers slightly when Dean speaks again, his voice soft and a bit strained, eyes dark as he frowns out of something that could be frustration or sadness, Castiel isn't sure which.  
“I really want to kiss you right now...” Dean says, and Castiel's heart leaps in his chest, banging like a wild bird against the cage of his ribs. He swallows again and then is leaning forward without any rational thought spurring him on, his lips barely brushing against Dean's, blue eyes fluttering shut as the softest of moans escapes Castiel's throat to vibrate against Dean's lips.  
The kiss only lasts a moment, and then Castiel pulls back, eyes wide and staring into Dean's own, a look of 'Oh God what did I just do' flashing over the man's face.

***

Dean is just as surprised as Castiel looks and it takes him a moment to realize what had just happened. His lips are tingling, all senses concentrated on this tiniest, shortest press of skin on skin and without hesitating, Dean grabs the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling him back in and kissing him again, softer, more tender than he’s imagined their first kiss to be. It’s really just a touch of lips, gently moving against each other, while their eyes are wide open, staring at the other in a mixture of shock and lust that turns Dean more on than probably appropriate. He leans in closer, wrapping his arm around Castiel’s shoulders and deepening the kiss, his eyelids fluttering shut finally, as he brushes his tongue over dry lips tentatively. He still can’t believe it was Castiel who had made the first step, who had kissed him... Somewhere in the back of his mind Dean wonders if it was coincidence… Or if Cas had actually learned enough English to understand Dean’s words… But right now he really couldn’t care less. Cause Cas’ lips are on his and their tongues touch and all of this sends waves of pure pleasure through his whole body and down to his groin.

***

Castiel gasps against Dean's lips and then has the breath sucked away from him as Dean's tongue licks out against his lips and they're canting their heads to deepen the kiss. Castiel's hands skate up Dean's body, knees, thighs, to his chest, where they clasp handfuls of the fabric of his shirt, pulling Dean even closer than before. His eyes flutter shut shortly after Dean's do, and the feel of Dean's arm around his back makes his body shake slightly, the warmth intoxicating.  
Castiel feels his whole body humming with the pleasure of the kiss, lips tingling and head fogging with it all, lust building inside him behind a dam that Castiel can feel cracks starting in, his resolve fading with each tangle of their tongues. He's the first to break the kiss this time as well, the slick wet noise as they part sending another shiver down his spine, and then Castiel is up, blushing, muttering something like 'Je dois retourner travailler'. Before Dean can stop him he's walking back up the steps to the cafe, holding the back of his hand to his lips with a wide eyed look on his face. The tenting of his pants is all too obvious though, the apron standing away from his body almost comical.

***

Dean sits there for a moment, still panting from acute shortness of breath, staring at Castiel who’s practically running away from him. There are a thousand different things on his mind, questions over questions and Dean can’t bear it any longer. He too gets up, following Castiel inside and behind the counter, where he’s leaning against a wall. Dean steps right into his personal space, grabbing Castiel’s wrists and pushing them flat against the wall, pressing his body flush against Castiel’s, as he tilts his head down to kiss him again. He would not let him go like this, not now, not when this simple kiss was enough to make Dean achingly hard. He presses one knee between Castiel’s legs, feeling the other’s hard-on and moaning into the kiss.  
“Cas”, he breathes against his lips, darting out his tongue to trace Castiel’s mouth, sucking his lower lip between his own, his leg still thrusting against Castiel’s groin.

***

Castiel's mind was going crazy, trying to think logically through all of this, his body aching with want in a way it never had. From a kiss, a simple kiss. 'Fuck', he thought to himself, and then there was a sound at the door as Dean came walking in, and Castiel's breath caught in his throat and before he could say anything Dean had him pinned against the wall, hands over his head, lips parting eagerly to continue what they hard started in the garden.  
“Dean...”  
Castiel answered Dean's own soft spoken statement, gasping out and arching against Dean's leg between his thighs.  
“Putain... Dean...”  
He struggles and manages to get his wrists free, wraps his arms around Dean's neck and pulls Dean flush against him, against the wall, pinning himself in place with Dean's heated body. Everything was delicious in this moment, the only sounds rustling of fabric and heated gasps and moans, and something clicks in Castiel and he ruts his hips hard against Dean's, wanting more friction, more pleasure.  
“Dean... Please...”  
He kisses Dean with urgency, lips seeking more contact, tongue delving into Dean's mouth between words. Castiel pulls back just enough to look into Dean's eyes, his own clouded with lust, dark and half open, staring right back into Dean's. Castiel's lips are plush and bruised, pink and red and wet from their kissing.  
“Please... Fuck me...”  
The English phrase was one of the few that Gabriel had insisted Castiel learn, and he didn't think that he would ever need to know it- he wanted to save himself for love, for that one person that would be his whole world, forever.  
But in this moment, this dangerously hot moment, where everything was sweaty skin and lips, gasps and groans, all he wanted was Dean. Castiel fucking ached to feel the other man pressing him into the wall, the floor, the bed, anything and everything just as long as Castiel got to have Dean possess him, own him and mark him and take him.

***

Dean shivers at the soft puff of air against his lips, hearing his name spoken with such need and desperation driving him almost insane. When Castiel breathes out the last few words, Dean stills for a moment, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eyes, surprise mixing with want and need. He wants to, god, there’s nothing else he’d rather do than fucking Castiel senseless, wrecking him in every way possible. And so he does, lifting his lithe body up, wrapping his long legs around his own body and turning them, pushing Cas down on the worktop in the middle of the room, pushing aside buckets of flower and sugar and spoons and mugs, until he has Castiel stretched out underneath. The table is a little elevated, so it’s easy for Dean to tug down Castiel’s pants and underwear, exposing his beautiful, naked body to the warm Summer air. He doesn’t waste time, leaning down to kiss over his chest, pushing his shirt up as far as possible, his tongue circling Castiel’s nipples, before licking down a wet stripe over his stomach and further down. His tongue draws wet circles into his sweaty skin and he keeps going down, kissing and sucking at Castiel’s inner thighs and finally his leaking cock, until the other man is practically begging, moaning with every touch, every breath. Castiel sits up slightly, climbing down the table and sliding to the ground, pulling Dean with him and swiftly opening his pants, nimble fingers gliding over hot, firm skin. A deep moan escapes Dean’s throat and he thrusts into Cas’ hand once, twice, before reaching down and spreading his legs, fingers brushing over his entrance and pushing one in after a few tentative seconds. Castiel’s moan is animalistic, primal and it almost makes Dean come right then and there. Castiel grabs his wrists, basically pulling his finger out and handing him a glass bottle, the olive oil inside sloshing as Dean takes it from Cas. Dean shudders at the feral look on Castiel's face, and hurries to slick his fingers with the makeshift lube, kissing Castiel through the stretch of first one, and then two fingers inside of him. A few more seconds, he tells himself, just a little bit longer… And just as himself, Cas seems to not being able to wait any longer… When Dean pushes inside, Cas cries out and it’s a terrifying sound, full of tense pain and Dean wants to pull back but Castiel’s fingers are on his back, holding him, pulling him further in and so Dean keeps pushing in the tight wetness until they’re completely one. For a moment everything is quiet, muffled sounds of Castiel gasping and Dean breathing heavily. And then Dean starts moving, slowly at first, the friction oh-so-perfect, the pace slowly but surely quickening until he’s thrusting inside Castiel’s body, making him cry out in what only can be pleasure, digging his nails into Dean’s shoulders and leaving bloody scrapes all over his back.

***

Castiel's breath comes in gasping pants, his back arching off the ground with every thrust that Dean so readily gives him. The grunts and moans from the man above him only make Castiel harder, his cock throbbing against his stomach, precome beading and dropping onto his stomach to glisten from the jolting way Dean was fucking into him.  
It hurt, of course it did. The burning feeling inside him was disconcerting, but riding over that whenever Dean angled just right was a lightning strike of pure, white pleasure that rode through Castiel's mind and blinded his vision for just a moment. He can't help it that his hips arch up into Dean's thrusts, his stomach heaving and clenching with the effort to make it easier for Dean to enter him.  
“Ahh! Dean....Tu me rends- dingue... Oui- ...Oui-...Y..yes!”  
The stream of French and English meshed phrases come out of Castiel's mouth like water, tumbling from his lips to Dean's ears where they caress and stroke, urging him on. Castiel's blunt fingernails manage to find purchase on Dean's back, the marks there surely going to be there for weeks, and the thought just makes Castiel scream louder, moans and gasps intermixed with the French English jumble that comes from his mouth with each hard push from Dean's cock into him, filling him.  
“Fuck!... Mon Dieu!... Oh... Ahhhhhh Deannn!!!”  
Castiel's entire body seemed to be made of nothing but nerve endings, all sparking with the pleasure Dean was delivering him, all wanting more. He cranes his head up slightly, kissing Dean sloppily, teeth and tongues knocking together with each jolt of their bodies.  
“Ah... D-Dean... Touch-... P...please... Touch me...”  
He licks his lips and lets slides one of his hands to Dean's, pushing it away from his waist to glide over sweat slick skin, Castiel's stomach twitching beneath Dean's tanned fingers, over a sharp hip toward Castiel's cock.  
He looks up into Dean's green eyes, his own brighter than usual, the dim light of the kitchen not enough, and Castiel wanted to see everything, the pupil so small it was a pinpoint in the center of his iris. Castiel rolls his entire torso, the muscles clenching in succession until his hips rolled up and his body swallowed Dean's cock even deeper, eliciting a hiss of pain and pleasure from Castiel.

***

It was insane. This pace, the violence of his thrusts and Castiel’s nails digging into the skin of his back, all of this-… Dean wasn’t exactly a virgin or anywhere near it but he’d never had sex like this. All passion and desire and pure utter lust, mixed with soft caresses and the ever present feeling of care, of affection. He lets Castiel guide his hand down, wrapping his fingers eagerly around his cock and stroking it gently a few times, before tightening his grip and pumping it in time with his thrusts, coming harder and faster now. He has Castiel pinned to the ground, every movement, ever touch of sweaty, hot skin on trembling skin making him moan and cry out in pleasure and Dean doesn’t want it to stop. Ever. It’s simple as that. There’s nothing in his life that has ever or will ever make him as hard as he is right now, nothing that brings him more pleasure than seeing Castiel writhing beneath him, screaming his name in a turmoil of emotions, drowning in a string of English and French words, falling off the other man’s delicate lips so beautifully that it makes Dean - if that’s even humanly possible - even harder. Then Dean suddenly sits back, sliding out of Castiel for a moment and settling down with his back against the kitchen counter. He’s pulling Castiel with him, tilting his own head up just enough so that he can steal another breathtaking kiss, before angling him just the right way, to let him sink down on his cock with one long, slow movement. The moan he gets now is even better than everything he’s heard so far. Arousal and the slightest hint of pain, mixed with the beautiful blush on Castiel’s cheeks, as his naked, trembling body is moving up and down on and off Dean’s cock.

***

At first Castiel is confused, mind fuzzy and sparkling with pleasure, the soft whine of longing when Dean pulls out of him long and drawn out- instantly missing the feeling of being absolutely filled. But then Dean pulls him up and into his arms and they're sitting, lips pressed against one another again, and Castiel sighs gently, wrapping his lean arms around Dean's shoulders and molding his chest flush against Dean's, kneeling with a leg on either side of the man's. There's a gentle prodding and then another flash of stretching, pain and heat and Castiel's head drops back with a soft cry that swiftly warps into a low moan, vibrating out of his throat.  
Castiel lets his weight carry him down, all the way down onto Dean's cock, settling at the base like he belongs there, like they're two puzzle pieces and the only way they're whole in this world is when Dean is inside of Castiel just like this. He slowly starts moving, using his legs to push himself up and down, thigh muscles working, overtime to speed up the process, slowly accelerating until the pace is quick enough for both of them.  
His eyes lock on Dean's and for a moment there's nothing but the wet suck of their bodies parting and then pushing back together. Castiel breathes quickly, slow and sharp, staring into Dean's eyes and there's a sudden pain in his chest as he reaches out to run a hand over the side of Dean's face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone then up into his hair to angle Dean's head back so they can kiss once more.  
“Dean... Oh-... Mon Dieu... I... wanted... this.”  
Castiel shivers and rotates his hips, swiveling them on Dean's cock as he continues to slowly ride him, the angle changing and Castiel cries out, hands gripping painfully around Dean's back again.  
“AH!... I- first time... I saw you...”  
He leans forward and kisses Dean again, passion seeming to just seep from his lips into Dean's through the kiss, his tongue curling in Dean's mouth like it had a mind of its own. Castiel arches his back, the movement pushing his cock forward to rub against Dean's stomach as he rides him, and that makes another sharp gasp burst from Castiel's lip against Dean's.

***

Dean is panting, gasping, every time Cas sinks down on him making his body arch up into the touch. Their mouths slot together perfectly, swallowing each other’s moans desperately. Then Castiel speaks again, his tongue slurring the words as he speaks English with this soft, hot-as-hell French accent that drives Dean insane. And Dean reaches out to tangle one of his hands in Castiel’s dark, thick hair, the other grabbing his hip and pulling him down vigorously, eliciting another long-drawn moan of the man above him.  
“Me too”, he admits, his voice raw and hoarse from moaning “God, me too… Wanted to have you like this… You’ve got no idea what-… you’re doing to me…”  
And because Dean means it, is sure that Castiel could not possibly know how hot he was in this very moment, how everything he said or did drove Dean closer to the edge, he reaches out to wrap his hand around his cock once more, jerking him off with slow, hard strokes, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s, as he pulls him into another kiss, this one’s softer, yet still passionate, pouring every feeling he’s had for weeks now inside.

***

Castiel's whole body quakes, the heat inside him that he swears is blasting straight out of Dean's cock into him, coiling in his spine and shooting into his brain until Castiel swears there are fireworks going off in front of his eyes. He comes quickly with Dean's hand around his cock, Dean buried to the hilt inside of him, his eyes wide but unseeing.  
“Ah-oh... Mon Dieu-ah-ah-ah... DEAN!”  
Dean's name is said with the same reverence and breathless gasping scream that Castiel says oh god, head arching back as he slams his body down over and over on Dean's cock. He tightens around Dean, muscles twitching and then locking down as the orgasm takes hold and Castiel's entire body is tensing, tightening, hanging onto Dean while the world melts away around him.  
As the orgasm fades Castiel's body goes limp and he almost falls away backwards off Dean's stiff cock, but Dean grabs him and hangs onto him, arms wrapping around Castiel to hold him close while the other man mutters incoherently in French, warm puffs of breath against Dean's neck, his arms hanging around Dean's shoulders loosely.

***

When Cas goes limp on top of him, Dean is there to catch him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him as he’s coming down from his high. He gives him a few seconds, before he slowly pushes him back until he’s lying on the ground again and Dean can thrust inside of him again. It doesn’t take him long though, the view of Castiel’s completely blissed out face, the soft, content smile on his kiss-swollen lips making him impossibly hard. His orgasm hits him hard, only insistently affirming that this was indeed the best sex he’d ever had in his life. A low groan drops from his lips, as he’s coming deep inside Castiel, hot and wet and seemingly never-ending. His hands can’t steady him any longer, as he lets himself sink down, pressing their chests flush against each other, while he’s still riding the last waves of this mind-blowing orgasm. He’s still inside Cas, the feeling of tight hotness around his dick engulfing every coherent thought and Dean wants to stay like this, forever at the very least… Eventually he pulls back reluctantly, slipping out of Castiel’s shivering body and sinking down next to him, not hesitating to pull him into a deep, breathtaking kiss. Their tongues tangle lazily, as Dean’s hands roam Castiel’s body, brushing over beads of sweat and come on his belly. He raises a hand to his lips, darting out his tongue to lick the sticky semen off his index finger, before kissing Cas again. He wants to say something, feels the need to express just how world-shattering this had been to him, how this was even more than just the most mind-blowing sex he’d ever had… But he just can’t find the right words… Cause there are no words to describe this…

***

Castiel kisses Dean back slowly, a shiver of pleasure sliding up his spine and leaving goosebumps in its wake as he tastes himself on Dean's tongue. It was so erotic it made his head swim, and he slides a hand up into Dean's hair to hold him close, deepening the kiss gently. Castiel's heart is pumping quickly still, but is slowing down as they lie on the cold kitchen floor, tangled together physically and both stuck quite firmly in the afterglow.  
He licks his lips slowly as he pulls away, opening his eyes to stare into Dean's own again, breathless for a split second at the immense beauty he finds there. A soft smile slowly spreads over Castiel's face and he laughs gently, covering his mouth with one hand as he snickers.  
“Dean... That... You are my first...”  
He tilts his head to one side and a quirky smile replaces the last, as if Castiel is entertained at the notion of losing his virginity in the manner he just did- rushed, rough, passionate and heated.  
Castiel trails a hand along Dean's temple, brushing the pads of his fingers lazily over the beads of sweat that had gathered there, a soft content hum in the back of his throat as he does this, eyes following his hand's movements.  
“It was...Comment on dit ?... Wonderful...”  
He smiles again, eyes darting back to look into Dean's.

***

For a moment Dean is rendered speechless at this confession, his own green eyes staring into the dark blue orbs just inches apart. But there’s only relief there and bliss and satisfaction and Dean eventually returns the smile, leaning in to capture Castiel’s now soft lips with his own.  
“You should’ve told me”, he scolds half-heartedly in between gentle kisses and his hands slide over the warm body next to him. His fingers brush against something behind Castiel’s back and for a second he stills, then raising his head to look over Castiel’s shoulder. There’s a smug smile on his lips, when he looks back at the other man, before he stretches to reach over him and tugs the bowl of chocolate mousse closer.  
“Sooo~… You understood me, when I said I wanted to kiss you, right?”, he states and finds his assumption confirmed, when Castiel’s cheeks blush dark red “Which leads me to believe that… You understood what I said before, as well, am I right?” Castiel stares at him for a moment, then averts his eyes, embarrassment spreading over his sweaty face.  
“No need to be shy”, he chuckles, leaning down to kiss him, again and again, until Cas is soft and pliant under his touches and Dean adds, whispering in his ear “I just fucked your brains out, Castiel… And there’s no way in hell I’m done with you..”  
With that he reaches for the bowl, dipping his index and middle finger in the soft, cool mousse, before pulling them back, spreading the dark cream on Castiel’s cheek, his neck and collarbone. He leans down to let his lips and tongue follow his fingers, licking and sucking at the skin beneath the sweet cream and making Castiel moan and shiver beneath him once more.  
***

Castiel shivers under Dean’s touch, his back arching up off the cold tile floor.  
“Ah-… Dean… What are you… doing?… Putain de m-…nmmm…”  
One of Castiel’s hands comes up to shift through Dean’s short hair, wet with sweat, gripping at it whenever Dean sucks on a particularly sensitive spot. Castiel’s whole body was still thrumming with energy, the afterglow having settled on him in a way that he felt even more alive, although somewhere inside his bones he did feel exhausted from all the energy just expended. The smell of sex and now chocolate was thick in the air, and Castiel swore he could almost taste it.  
With every soft nip at his skin, Dean brought another useless arch of Castiel’s hips up into the air, body shaking under Dean’s mouth and fingertips. The thought that Dean had to be incredibly experienced to be this good, and mon Dieu, they didn’t use a condom, flits through Castiel’s mind and he stiffens just slightly, before relaxing again when Dean closes his mouth around a nipple.  
Castiel was utterly wrecked under Dean’s mouth, a gasping, whimpering mess. If he could have seen himself in that moment he probably would have been ashamed at just how undone he was, how limp in Dean’s arms, how trusting. Castiel could barely see the man hovering over him in that moment though, his eyes refused to stay completely open, fluttering shut against the pleasures that Dean continued to play out on his body.

***

In the end half of the bowls content find their way on Castiel’s body, Dean barely taking time to take a look at his piece of art. When he has Castiel once more moaning and writhing underneath him, Dean moves further down to regard his achingly hard cock with a generous amount of chocolate, licking it off with small dips of his tongue that drive Castiel crazy. It doesn’t take long and Cas is coming again, the mixture of semen and chocolate bittersweet on Dean’s tongue. He crawls back up, pressing his lips on Castiel’s and kissing him, long and sensually, before finally collapsing next to him, rolling on his back and staring at the dimly lit ceiling. Outside he can hear the birds chirping and the horizon is already colored pink and red, the sun slowly but surely rising in the east. One of his hands finds Castiels and he intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently. They lie in silence for some time, just breathing, touching each other softly, until Dean sits up and reaches for a towel, cleaning up part of the mess he made on Castiel’s stomach and chest.  
“We should take shower”, he suggests, not even remotely dirty-minded, as he knows they’re both exhausted and Castiel needs to prepare a load of stuff for the café. Dean feels a little guilty for causing this chaos in Castiel’s kitchen and when he helps the other man up and wraps his arms around the cold body, he promises Cas to help him.  
***

Castiel shakes his head, so exhausted he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to handle the café alone today, if at all.  
“Non… I will call Anna et Gabriel… They will see to the café, d'accord?”  
He smiles and wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him down for another soft, sweet kiss, just a gentle press of the lips. Castiel pulls back and then takes Dean’s hand, intertwining their fingers as he leads the way, naked, upstairs to the apartment above the café where he lives alone.  
It’s the same size as the café itself, though the ceiling is only 8 feet high instead of 12. The café needed the extra storage room and ventilation, but Castiel’s apartment did not. It gave off a cozy feel, everything made from white washed wood, well worn with dings and cracked paint here and there. The technical term in modern culture would be shabby sheek, but Castiel just knew it as hand-me-downs and garage sale finds. Nothing really matched, the carpet not matching the curtains not matching the bedspread, each made from a different colored fabric.  
The curtains were white eyelet lace, hand stitched with soft blue thread and embroidered with baby’s breath along the hemline- his Mother’s touch. They were slightly yellowed with age instead of the crisp white they had once been, as Castiel didn’t have the heart to bleach them, knowing that the thread would bleach as well, and his Mother had been so proud of her handiwork when she’d finished these a decade ago. The rug was handwoven out of discarded shirts, a rainbow of colors that wrapped around itself, spiraling out from the center to form a large area rug about 5 feet long by 5 feet wide, almost a perfect circle. The bedspread on the small single bed was a patchwork, florals and stripes and flannels, all working together in a strange haphazard way. The quilt was made by his Grandmother, again handstitched, this time with a thick red thread in places, other places white or blue or green, whatever was handy at the time. There was a chest of drawers against one wall, on top of which was a multitude of jewelry boxes and photographs, showing smiling happy people and two children, a redheaded girl and a boy a few years younger with an unruly mop of black hair. The bed was shoved against the wall that faced the backyard, at the perfect height that one could sit on it and look out the window, leaning on the sill and watching the ocean past the tops of the trees.  
The kitchen was tiny, almost unused, as Castiel did most of his cooking downstairs anyway, and the bathroom was outdated with a huge claw foot tub and a shower curtain that hung from an oval metal frame that was attached to the ceiling and also happened to carry the water to the large shower head on one side. The bathroom was mostly white, white tile, walls, toilet, tub and sink. The only color was a small bathmat in a bright sunny yellow, and a painting of pears on the wall in greens yellows and browns.  
There was a rocking chair in one corner, opposite the bed, and a small night table near tucked in beside the bed, but that was the only furniture, except two very large, very full book shelves. It seemed Castiel spent most of his time in the café, and rarely spent time upstairs except to sleep or read. There were books on almost every subject, from anatomy to history, arts and music, science and works of fiction. Every book was in French though, except for the very well worn by this point Dictionary that sat on his bedside table.  
Castiel led the way into the apartment and apologized for it being messy, which meant that he had a few towel hung over the rocking chair and dirty clothes stuck out of the wicker hamper at the foot of his bed.  
“The bathroom is ici…”  
He points to the dark wood door that led to the bathroom, while grabbing clean towels from a built in closet to the left of the door.

***

Dean lets his gaze wander over the few pieces of furniture, the cramped but cozy interior of Castiel’s home. It was nice, although nothing compared to Dean’s huge 3-bed apartment back home in Lawrence. He liked it, though, and as he followed Castiel to the bathroom, he spots a familiar saddle between all the books on Castiel’s cupboards and the nightstand. He smiles to himself as he realizes that Castiel indeed owned a French copy of his very first book, published - like all his books - under his alias, D. Smith. He decides not to mention it for now, though, and quietly waits for Castiel to adjust the shower’s temperature before following him, stepping inside the huge bathtub. They don’t have much time but Dean can’t hold back touching Castiel every now and then, helping him cleaning his belly, his chest and thighs of the chocolate, sharing sweet kisses all the time. When they’re done the small bathroom is filled with aromatic fragrances, something like mint or eucalyptus... Dean’s not sure. Their clothes are powdered with flower and sugar and Dean has no other choice but accepting Castiel’s offer of a pair of fresh pants and a new shirt. He feels weird, the slightly too small pants embracing his legs tightly, but he doesn’t lose a word about it. When they’re done getting dressed, they leave the bedroom to go downstairs and get to work. Dean’s clumsy and awkward in the kitchen, cooking or baking having never been one of his passions. But Castiel’s a good teacher and with his instructions, Dean manages to not being a complete burden. When the café opens and the first customers occupy the tables outside, Castiel gets nervous and fidgety and relaxes only when Dean puts his hands on his shoulders gently.  
“Why isn’t this cute?”, a familiar voice sounds from behind them and both Castiel and Dean spin around, only to find Gabriel, smirking and Anna, quietly chuckling, leaning on the counter, watching them.  
“Shut up and make yourself useful”, Dean snaps, demonstratively wrapping one arm around Castiel’s waist and glaring at the other man.

***

Castiel can’t help the surprised laugh at Dean’s forcefulness, and turns around to bury his face in Dean’s chest while Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his jaw drops. Anna smirks, tilting her head to one side, before she speaks in French, specifically to Castiel.  
*”I like him, Castiel. He has bite.”*  
*”I’ll bet he does”* Gabriel says, and Anna smacks the back of his head. “Ow? Was that necessary?”  
“Yes, now come, let us take care of the café today… Dean, please take care of my brother, d'accord?”  
Castiel looks from Anna to Gabriel and back again, before smiling and nodding, acknowledging that for once in the past decade he would have the day completely off, even if he didn’t want it. Which, surprisingly enough, he actually did. Castiel looks up at Dean and tilts his head before taking Dean’s hand in his, fingers intertwined.  
“We go?”  
He nods to the café entrance, wanting to be somewhere else, possibly with a bed and some privacy, just to enjoy Dean’s presence. Hopefully all day long.

***

If only Castiel could’ve read his mind, they could’ve been up in his bedroom, doing the naughty all day long already… But since neither of them knows what the other is thinking, Dean and Castiel leave the café a bit aimlessly. Castiel leads the way though, walking down the street in the historic part of the district. They hold hands for a while and Dean finds himself surprised in not really minding the strange looks that gets them. After half an hour of walking and a bit tense conversation, Dean pulls Castiel in a deserted alley, pressing him against the wall and kissing him. It takes a while until his hunger is satisfied and he pulls back a bit, leaning his forehead against Castiel’s, both of them panting.  
“I just… I just wanna get this straight…”, Dean says after a few breathless seconds and raises a hand to cup Castiel’s cheek, making sure he’s looking at him when he continues “I’m not normally doing this... I mean… I’ve had one-night-stands but-…”  
He stops, turning his head to the side, feeling his cheeks blushing.  
”... Thing is- I’m crazy about you… And I was actually planning on courting you some more and… You know, taking my time but… Now that I’ve had you, I… I kinda can’t not touch you, you know?”  
He looks back into Castiel’s eyes, unsure if the other man understood what he had been saying and he clears his throat a bit uncomfortably.  
“Look, it’s simple… I don’t want this to be a one-time-thing, okay?”

***

Castiel’s eyes search Dean’s, blue flickering back and forth as he takes in the expression on Dean’s face, how his eyes squint in the inner corners just slightly and his brow furrows in concentration, as if he’s scared Castiel won’t believe him.  
Castiel grabs handfuls of Dean’s shirt in his fists and pulls him in for a crushing kiss, all possession and want and need, a soft aching moan coming from Castiel’s lips.  
*”It won’t be… I can’t let it either… I have to have you…”*  
The French words are quick, hurried between quick biting kisses. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and pulls him into a tight hug, kissing the side of Dean’s neck slowly, hot breath puffing out against the skin as he speaks.  
“Yes Dean… Not just once…”  
‘As many times as you’ll have me… Until you go home…’, Castiel thinks, and unconsciously holds Dean even tighter, as if the warmth from the other man could combat the tight clenching pain in his chest at the idea of Dean leaving. Castiel’s mind wanders past the words ‘DANGER DANGER DANGER’, but ignores them, like a horse with blinders on he can only see one thing. And that’s Dean, and everything good that Dean offers so willingly.  
“…We… Go to your hotel?”  
Castiel pulls back slowly to look into Dean’s eyes, a hint of mischief in his own blue ones.

***

Dean returns the abrupt kisses after a moment of surprise, leaning in closer and tangling his hand in Castiel’s hair. They stay like that for some time, Castiel’s arms wrapped tightly around Dean’s body, holding him like he’s afraid he would leave any minute. Dean wants to ask if everything is alright, just when Castiel starts talking. Just the thought of Castiel stretched out on the hotel bed, his hands gripping the bedspread and rumpling the duvet cover. He swallows heavily, returning Castiel’s look and then nodding. They make their way back to one of the larger streets and Dean gets them a cab. The drive back to his hotel is silent, Dean holding Castiel’s slightly trembling hand in his own and practically jumping out of the car, once it stopped. His room is on the 6th floor but Dean cannot physically wait any longer, so when they step into the elevator and the doors shut behind them, Dean presses Castiel against the mirror wall and starts unbuttoning his shirt, kissing and biting and licking every piece of skin he can reach. Every small moan is spurring him on, every tiny movement of Castiel’s body against his making him harder and Dean’s on his knees, popping open the button of Castiel’s pants and freeing his cock from its confines. He licks a long, wet stripe over it from tip to base and grins at the long-stretched sound escaping Cas’ mouth. He’s already sucking Castiel off vigorously, when he remembers that neither of them had pushed the elevator button…

***

“Dean… S'il te plait… Wait… Deux secondes…”  
Castiel pants, his legs shaking, hardly able to hold himself up anymore from how torturously good Dean’s mouth is. Yes, he has obviously had practice, and that makes Castiel blush both from the idea of Dean with other men, a fierce rise of jealousy flushing his cheeks, and also from how afraid he is of being bad at this while Dean is so good. He pushes Dean away gasping as Dean’s mouth slides off his cock with a pop.  
“The… room?”  
He licks his lips and then groans in a slight bit of pain at tucking his cock back inside his pants, buttoning but no bothering to zip up, just letting the untucked shirt cover the front, a few buttons being done back up for modesty’s sake. Castiel helps Dean to his feet and then smiles and bites his lower lip when Dean presses the 6 button, before shoving him against the wall and kissing him hard, words cascading from his mouth as he devours Dean, hands everywhere, feeling, caressing, pressing, scraping nails along Dean’s sides.  
“J'peux plus attendre… Dean, je te veux tellement… Ah… H-hot…”  
The floors tick by incredibly slowly, but eventually the doors slide open with a ding, and Castiel stumbles out, pulling Dean by his shirt to crash into the wall with a gasping moan, arms wrapping around his neck once more.

***

Dean has no idea what Cas is talking about, his French still too lousy to follow but he imagines it to be something naughty and that gets him going pretty good. They kiss some more, slowly making their way down the corridor, until Dean finally fumbles for his room key and they stumble inside, kicking the door shut behind them. Dean doesn’t care about buttons anymore, practically ripping the shirt open and tearing it off Castiel’s shoulders, sliding back on his knees to finish what he’d started a minute ago. Castiel lets his head fall back against the wall and Dean sucks him off until Cas’ hands are back in his hair, tugging and shoving at the same time, desperate moans coming over his lips. Dean pulls back before Cas comes, helping him stepping out of the legs of his pants and guiding him backwards towards the bed. They fall down on the mattress together, Dean sitting back up just to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere out of sight. He looks down, savoring this moment by memorizing every part of Castiel’s body, smiling as he notices the tiny freckle just above his right nipple. The smile widens, as he looks into Castiel’s eyes, clouded with desire and urgency, and decides to torture Cas a little longer. Leaning down, he nips at Castiel’s earlobe and licks it apologetically before whispering, hot and demanding:  
“Touch yourself, Cas…”

***

Castiel groans, the sound getting caught in the back of his throat as he shivers under Dean's touch.  
“Y-yes Dean...”  
He follows Dean's command, and slides a hand down his torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, to wrap the hand around his shaft, instantly arching up into the touch.  
“AH...”  
Castiel tilts his head up so that his neck is exposed more, letting Dean nick and lick at it as he pleases. He moans, tightening his hand around the base of his cock, then loosening the grip and sliding it down to the tip to collect the slick precum there, before spreading it back down as he fists his cock, slowly and loosely.  
“Mmm... mmh... D-Dean... Thought...of you-...a..a.h... Last time... I did this...”  
He licks his lips and gasps at his own touches, pulling and tugging just slightly. His toes curl as he pushes up off the bed, his body aching for more contact.

***

Dean keeps kissing and sucking at Castiel’s throat, while the other man is stroking himself with a hypnotic rhythm, slender, pale fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, pumping up and down. Dean can’t stop looking down, can’t get enough of the obscene sounds coming from Castiel’s throat. Cas’ words send shivers down his spine and finally he can’t hold himself back any longer, sliding down Castiel’s body, and replacing his sweaty, slick hand with his own lips. He sucks him off gently, all lips and tongue and occasionally swallowing hard, making Cas buck up into the wet tightness of his mouth. Dean’s fingers stroke down Castiel’s sides, grabbing his hips and steadying him, before one of them moves around Cas’ body, index finger pressing gently against his entrance. Dean pulls back his head just enough so that he can speak, his eyes fixed on the beautiful panting man above him.  
“I wanna fuck you, Cas.”

***

Castiel gasps, his body rocking and he has shut his eyes tightly, head thrown back, because he almost comes just from Dean's hoarse voice, the delicious way he speaks when he wants something so badly.  
“I...” He licks his lips and sits up slightly staring into Dean's brilliant green eyes.  
“Softly, Dean?”  
Castiel would probably mix the words up in his mind when it comes to English for some time, but he hoped that Dean would understand. After last night's – this morning's – activities, he was certainly feeling a little sore.  
It didn't matter though, he wanted more of Dean, more of the amazing feeling from earlier, ever sparking electric wave of pleasure that had washed over him still in the forefront of his mind. Castiel reaches down to pull Dean up for a long slow kiss, lips lingering on one another for a while after the kiss was over.  
“I want you inside me, Dean.”  
Castiel stares up at him and suggestively tilts his hips, pushing Dean's finger further inside him with a soft hiss of inhaled breath.

***

Dean nods, looking down at Castiel with hooded eyes.  
“Don’t worry, Cas… I’ll be gentle”, he says quietly, twisting his finger a bit and rubbing slowly over Castiel’s prostate. He knows last night had been quite rough, especially for a first time and he was amazed by how Cas could still walk straight, let alone be ready for a next round. He remembered his first time and that he hadn’t been that brave, lying on his belly for two days and cursing Alan York - even though it had been pretty awesome getting fucked…  
Still he felt bad for doing the same to Cas and was all for taking it slow, now that they had time to learn their bodies. He kisses Castiel’s lips apologetically, adding a second finger and scissoring them carefully, drinking down Cas’ quiet moans.  
“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers against Cas’ lips, staring down at the man beneath him.

***

Castiel shivers and arches his back, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders loosely, kissing him like drinking water, long gulps at his lips and tongue, swallowing every sound Dean makes because it's like nectar, sweet and honey and perfect.  
Cas cries out when Dean brushes over his prostate, cock twitching in response to the surge of pleasure that slides up his spine, ratcheting over the vertebrae to flicker up into his brain and light off more of the fireworks from last night. He hums his approval and bites at Dean's lower lip, gently nipping at the delicate skin, wanting to cause just enough pain so it mixes with the pleasure in the most delicious way.  
He scrapes his nails across Dean's back when the other man scissors his fingers, thighs tensing and quaking from the flash-bang of pain that lights off stars and has him gasping for breath for a moment, but then it's gone, lingering heat and burn left behind humming over the pleasure but fading to a dull background noise the more Dean moves his fingers inside of him.  
“Dean... Ah... Please- s'il te plaît!- Let me...”  
He reaches down with one hand, finger tips bumping and gliding over tensing muscles of Dean's torso until they wrap around Dean's cock, firmly grasping it and pulling slightly toward Castiel's mouth.  
“Je veux goûter...”

***

Dean swallows hard at this view, taking a moment to just breathe, before he nods slowly. He’s still kneeling over Cas, when the other man’s hand and lips wrap around his cock and then he starts sucking and licking and Dean’s knees go weak. He lets his head sink down, hiding it in the pillow, as Cas’ tongue flicks out, trying and testing, driving Dean crazy with this innocent curiosity that made him fall for Castiel in the first place.  
“Oh… God… Cas”, he breathes out, followed by an incoherent string of words and sounds, when Cas sucks and swallows around his cock.  
“That-… Do that again…”  
And Cas does, making Dean moan without control, without restraint and it takes Dean a lot of willpower to hold himself back from thrusting down and in the other man’s mouth…

***

Cas pushes his head forward to swallow ever more of Dean, gagging slightly before figuring out the rhythm that was needed between breathing and sucking and the length of Dean's cock sliding down his throat. Castiel is a fast learner, and soon he moves his head in a smooth rhythm, deep throating Dean and holding a hand around the base that slides up when he pulls his head back off Dean's cock.  
He groans around Dean's cock, the throaty gasps and moans coming from the other man making him even harder.  
Cas has to stop, his body worked into a frenzy from all the things he's experiencing for the first time, here, with Dean.  
“Dean...”  
Castiel shoves Dean off of him, straddles him and kisses him, fast, hurried kisses.  
“I need you... Please... In-... inside me..”  
He shakes on top of Dean, his whole body reacting to the anticipation, the knowledge that soon Dean would fill him again, burn and pain and pleasure all together acting as one to drive Castiel insane. His eyes are wide, searching Dean's for a moment, before he slides his hips back, Dean's cock pressing against Castiel's ass. Cas smiles, coy in the moment, and lifts his hips up and moves back slightly before pressing them back down, trapping Dean's cock between his ass and Dean's own stomach. Castiel sits up so his torso is vertical, and starts rocking his hips in small circles, the muscles of his abdomen clenching cyclically, a strange hypnotic rhythm to them as Cas grinds on top of Dean, moaning with his head tossed back at the sensations.

***

Castiel’s words mixed with the unique attitude are almost enough to bring Dean over the edge. He bites his lip, grabbing Cas’ hips and helping him to steady himself while grinding down against Dean. It’s not something he has done before, being so close to be inside another person again but not doing it, not yet actually. But the view is amazing… Castiel is so gone, lost in the moment, his hips working hypnotically fast and precise. He takes his time, working Dean to full hardness with his little show but eventually he can’t take it any longer and he digs his nails into the skin of Cas’ hips and groans deep, making Cas look at him again and licking his lips before he breathes out “I need you… Now…”  
In a matter of seconds Castiel gets the message and pulls back slightly, moving his hips up and off Dean’s cock, which elicits a grunt of displeasure at the loss of friction - but then he presses down and Dean’s cock is embraced with hot, tight wetness and all Dean can do is moan and help Cas holding himself up and pulling him closer, further down on his cock.

***

Castiel lets his body adjust to the pressure, the thickness of Dean stretching him as far as he can be stretched. He lets out a soft hiss of pain and pauses once he is seated fully on Dean, breath coming in shallow pants, his hands griping Dean's chest tight. He stills for a moment, leaning down to kiss Dean slowly, languid as their mouths open to one another, tongues tangling. He pulls back to stare into Dean's eyes, his own searching, flickering around Dean's face slowly.  
“... Beautiful...”  
He slides his hands up to cup Dean's face again and presses his forehead to Dean's, sighing softly.  
“Tu es tellement beau, Dean...”  
Castiel shifts then, tilting his hips slightly and then slowly starts riding Dean, lifting his body up and down, legs shaking just slightly.

***

‘You too’, Dean wants to say ‘God, Cas, you’re fucking gorgeous’ - but only soft sighs come over his lips at the view of the man letting himself sink down on him, pain and pleasure equally on his beautiful face. The rhythm he settles in is amazing, pace just right, torturing Dean sweetly by the constant change of friction and release. Dean reaches out to draw one finger over Castiel’s cock, teasing him gently before finally wrapping his hand around him and trying to return some of the pleasure he’s getting from him. They go on like this for a while, minutes or hours, Dean honestly can’t tell anymore. They change positions, Dean pinning Castiel below him, the other man’s legs over his shoulders, as he pushes inside slowly, gently, never breaking eye contact. He can’t decide if this is better than their first time, better than the rushed, rough acting out of primal instincts… But he thinks he prefers Cas like this. All revved and writhing and moaning for hours and gripping Dean’s arms and legs and praising and begging him for more. Dean leans down to kiss him, suck at his lip, his throat, his collarbone. Then his lips find his earlobe, his tongue flicking out to lick over it just a second, before he whispers “Come for me, Cas…”

***

Castiel was moments from coming, but the second Dean speaks, whispers to him to come, he can't stop himself. Cas crashes into his orgasm hard, his whole body shaking under Dean, thrashing, hips slamming up to meet each of Dean's thrusts.  
It wouldn't be surprising to Dean if the entire floor of his hotel heard Castiel's scream, the sound loud and unimpeded as he throws his head back and screams out Dean's name, followed by a string of French that Dean can only assume to be cuss words.  
Cas' toes curl, knuckles whitening, his hands scrabble over Dean's sweat slick back, finding purchase around his shoulders and hanging on as the waves of pleasure rock him again and again and again. It's the most intense orgasm of Castiel's life, his entire body clenching around Dean and holding him close, locked together as he rides it out.  
“Dean... Dean...”  
Castiel slowly comes down from his high, voice quieting into gasping whispers against Dean's ear, arms still locked tight around his shoulders.

***

Dean jerks back when Castiel starts screaming his name and for a moment he’s confused as to whether it’s pain or pleasure evoking this intense reaction. But one look into Castiel’s face tells Dean everything he needs to know and he keeps on thrusting inside, pace getting slower and slower until he too finally feels his orgasm. He sinks down on Castiel’s slightly shaking body, breathing heavily against the skin of his neck, kissing and sucking there until another dark red bruise is formed. Afterward they lie in silence for a while, Dean only reluctantly slipping out and rolling off of Castiel, crawling close and pulling the other man into a loose embrace. They don’t speak for a while, other than the occasional “Dean” or “Cas”, the names breathed out with so much tenderness, so much affection that it almost scares Dean. He’s never felt like this, the urge, the need to stay close, to share this intimate feeling with another person, other than getting up and leaving the minute he’s done, is overwhelming. He intertwines his fingers with Castiel’s, pulling his hand up gently and pressing his lips against the knuckles. There’s an ‘I love you’ somewhere in this gesture and while Dean still feels slightly intimidated by that, he realizes, that this is how it is… He could try to deny it, get away and protect himself from the heartache that’s bound to happen when in just 2 months Dean would have to leave France, leave Castiel. But there’s no way he’s going to let this slip away, not now, not yet…

***

Castiel lies in Dean's arms, fingers trailing over the warm tanned and freckled skin, discovering new things about the man he had grown so fond of in such a short time. He found that Dean had sensitive skin under his ears, and tiny crows feet at the corners of his eyes which didn't make him look old, just showed that he smiled a lot. Castiel liked that. He also liked how their hands fit together, his long fingered, elegant, but with short cut nails and calluses and dozens of tiny scars from knicks with knives and burn marks from mistakes in the kitchen. Dean's hands were beautiful, freckled slightly on the top, the palms large, enveloping his own. They had large knuckles and shorter fingers, but seemed stronger somehow, and they too had calluses, but in different spots.  
Castiel spent a long time brushing his hands through Dean's hair, counting the freckles along his perfect nose, admiring the rise and fall of his chest while they laid in the bed not saying anything.  
And then, after hours of silence, they started talking. At first it wasn't about anything really, just about where to go for dinner. That graduated to the best places to eat in the city, and why, what Castiel thought about the other cafe owners, and if there was any gossip. It moved on to how Dean was doing with his recovery, and if he felt like he could breathe easier here by the sea. Castiel found that Dean's answer of 'yes' made his heart thump a little faster, as if that was just another reason for Dean to stay in France... If only just a little bit longer.  
Castiel smiles softly and ducks his head a bit, nuzzling in under Dean's chin, before an idea hits him and he props himself up on his forearms, leaning on Dean's chest to look into his eyes. His eyes are wide, hopeful, his smile excited.  
“Will you come to the café tomorrow?... I wish to... Learn you something with cooking.”

***

Dean smiles at that, this expectant look on Castiel’s face, all hope and anticipation and he quickly nods.  
“Course I’ll come by”, he says quietly, kissing the other man on the nose “I’ve got no idea how to function without your coffee anymore”, he adds with a sly grin that gets him a playful nudge by Castiel.  
“But seriously… You wanna let me in your kitchen again? Aren’t you like… scared shitless I could break all your pots and oversalt your soup and stuff? And... What if I can’t hold back and... mh… Say, attack you again?”  
Castiel blushes and Dean kisses him again, this time on the lips.  
“You really need to be on guard around me but… Feel free to try to teach me how to make your delicious dishes.”

***

“C'est vrai? You will come then?”  
Castiel grins and wraps his arms around Dean with a happy laugh, the sound cheerful and tinkling despite the other man's deep voice.  
“Merveilleux!”  
He pulls back just enough to kiss Dean again, smiling into the kiss, before wrapping his arms tighter and burying his face in Dean's neck. Castiel inhales his scent, and shoves all the thoughts about Dean leaving in two months away. He wants to enjoy this for as much time as he can, and not dread the moment the other man would fly out of the country, and out of his life, probably forever.  
Castiel is still for a moment before sitting back up and climbing off of Dean to pad to the bathroom. He starts running the shower and then pops his head out around the corner.  
“Dean... Will you come?”  
He tilts his head to one side, a lopsided soft smile on his face.  
Castiel can't remember the last time he had this much fun while being this sore, all over. He had bruises and hickies and he wasn't even going to try to comprehend how he would sit down the rest of the day. But it was worth it. It was worth it to see Dean, and feel him, touch him, bask in his gorgeous presence. Cas had never met anyone like Dean, so confident and self assured, and he found it a bit odd that Dean had chosen him to fawn over. Castiel didn't think of himself as that attractive. He knew that he had a leanly muscled body, but felt it was far from perfect. The only quality about himself he truly loved was how blue his eyes were. He was often told they were the clearest blue that anyone had ever seen, and had once been offered a modeling contract, just for eye glasses. He declined, not really liking the spotlight, but it had made him blush then, and made him blush whenever he thought about it from there on.  
The idea that Dean, a creature so beautiful it pained Castiel at times, making his chest tighten when the light from the hotel window filtered down and lit up Dean's profile, his lashes glowing in relief... The idea that someone like that could want Castiel? It had him dizzy with wonder.

***

Dean had been sitting up slightly, watching Castiel walking over to the bathroom with a small smile on his lips. The way the other man walked was adorable, even though Dean knew that he himself was the reason for the bowlegged gait. He licks his lips, when Castiel appears at the door, his eyes travelling down his body for a second, before flicking up again. His smile widens and he quickly gets up and follows Castiel in the bathroom, stepping into the shower and closing the glass door behind them. They don’t do much under the shower, Dean still feeling somehow guilty for hurting Castiel so much, so he’s content with massaging the other man’s shoulders and back and his hands sliding softly over his ass and legs, his chest and thighs. Afterwards, Dean lends Castiel some of his clothes and they walk out on the balcony and Dean takes the hotel phone to order a light lunch. They eat salad and seafood, fish and shrimp and drink wine, while talking and enjoying the beautiful scenery and the slowly darkening sky above Le Havre. Around ten, Castiel suddenly stands - not without wincing slightly at the abrupt movement - and tells Dean he’s sorry but he can’t let Anna and Gabriel take over cleaning and preparing for tomorrow as well. Dean walks him outside and while they’re waiting for the taxi, they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, kissing and touching just as much as is appropriate in public. When the taxi pulls over and Castiel already opens the door, Dean pulls him back one last time to kiss him, deep and slow, all tongues touching and longing looks. He leans back against a lamp post, watching the cab leaving and sighing to himself. When he had come to France, he’d never in a million years, expected this to happen…


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel goes back to his café to grins and smiles from Anna and Gabriel alike. Gabriel leaves quickly enough, clapping Castiel on the back and smiling a smile that says 'I know what you were doing and I approve'.  
Anna, however, stays. She and Castiel talk for the few hours it takes to get the cafe ready for the next day.  
*”So...”*  
*”So?”*  
*”Oh come ON, Castiel, spill! Tell me everything!”*  
*”There's nothing to tell Anna, I like him, he likes me...”*  
*”You know what I mean, Castiel. How was it?”*  
*”... Amazing Anna... Oh God, so amazing... I didn't know it would be like that.”*  
She grins at him and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Castile blushes and smiles, shrugging his shoulders up towards his ears while he tries to shrug her off of him, but not really. As much as he pretended not to like the fawning his family did over him, he actually loved the attention. It made him feel important, loved,... special.  
*”I'm so happy for you Castiel... Are you seeing him again tomorrow?”*  
*”Yes... I'm going to teach him how to make crepes tomorrow...”*  
*”Ooh... That's a tough one, sure he can handle it?”*  
*”... Maybe. We'll see.”*  
They spend the rest of the time speaking about relationships and how Castiel was falling head over heels for the American visitor, what men liked in bed, and how often Anna would be available to cover Castiel so he could get out of the café more to spend time with Dean while Dean was still in France. The idea that Dean was leaving struck Castiel hard and he quieted, Anna noticed immediately of course, and wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug.  
*”Anna... What am I going to do when he leaves?... I don't...”*  
*”Shh..shh shh Castiel...You will be okay. You have two months, enjoy it... Things like this do not come often...”*

Castiel falls asleep that night staring out the window at the night sky, wondering if Dean was looking out at the same time, thinking about Castiel as Castiel was thinking about him.

***

When Dean shows up the next morning around 6, Castiel has already been in the kitchen for hours and is wearing this apron that flatters his graceful form so much. Dean sneaks inside and hugs the other man from behind, taking advantage of the empty interior of the café and pressing his lips to Castiel’s neck.  
“Morning, babe”, he whispers in his ear and Castiel turns around and they kiss, deep and longing, like they’d been apart for weeks.  
Then someone clears their throat behind them and a moment later, Anna’s starts speaking in an amused tone “You guys are so cute-… But ser are customers waiting for ser orders so…”  
Dean reluctantly pulls back, grinning at Anna and grabbing an apron.  
“I’m here to help, dear”, he says, tying up the apron and turning back to face Castiel “Now, Maestro-… Where would you like me to start?”

***

Castiel smiles at Dean and then nods at Anna.  
*”What did they order?”*  
*”Two coffees, I've got that, a little girl wanted a slice of orange cake, I've got that, but the Father wanted a chocolate crepe with strawberries and fresh- he specifically made sure I knew he wanted FRESH whipped cream.”*  
Anna rolls her eyes then takes a breath and continues.  
*”The mother wanted a crème brulée.”*  
Castiel nods and then starts working, explaining to Dean what he was going to make and how, so that Dean could watch him the first time around. To make the crepes there was a special device, a large circular surface that heated up much like a built in griddle on some stoves, but this device was separate and plugged into the wall instead. Castiel flicked a switch on that and let it start heating up while he mixed up the crepe batter, making sure that it was fully mixed from where it had settled from earlier use.  
“So... This ees the batter... It ees thinner than pancake batter, and I add different flavorings to it deependink on what ze customer orders, ok?”  
He pulls out a dark chocolate powder and pours it into the batter before handing it to Dean to mix.  
“S'il te plait, to mix?”  
Castiel then walks over to the large fridge and takes out a small ramekin, filled with custard, and a plastic container with sliced strawberries. He pours sugar on top of the custard, making sure there was a thick layer that covered all of the custard. Cas then comes over and takes the batter from Dean, using a small ladle to pour two spoonfuls onto the now heated surface of the crepe maker.  
“Now... Watch.”  
He pulls a wooden utensil out of a small canister of water, and lets it drip just a bit, before moving it over the batter on the griddle's surface quickly in circular motions. The utensil was shaped a lot like a small wooden rake like they use in temples for flattening out the sand of rock gardens. It had no teeth, so was flat on the end, and pushed the batter outward until it covered the entire griddle's surface in a thin layer. Castiel then takes a long metal spatula, similar to the ones used for spreading frosting on cakes, and runs it around the edge of the griddle to cut off any of the excess from the batter that spilled over the sides. He quickly flips the crepe, and then steps to the side and reaches into the fridge for a pressure canister that contains fresh whipped cream. The crepe is done quickly, and Castiel pulls it off the griddle and places it on a clean cutting board. He layers the strawberries and the whipped cream in a small triangular section, a slice, of the crepe, then drizzling chocolate sauce on top, before quickly folding the crepe up into a neat little bundle.  
He plates the dessert and drizzles more sauce on top, piles a few strawberries to the side, and adds a dollop of whipped cream to finish.  
“And it ees done.”  
Castiel smiles up at Dean, then turns around and flicks off the griddle before grabbing a tiny hand held torch and returning to the custard. He places the custard on the center island of the kitchen, on top of a large slab of what looks to be marble. Cas lights the torch and quickly burns the sugar, caramelizing it, before picking up the ramekin with a pair of tongs and dunking just the bottom part in a tub of water to cool the ramekin off, without getting the dessert wet at all.  
It puts the ramekin on another plate, then turns back around just in time to see Anna with a platter of the coffees and the orange cake.  
“Ready Castiel?”  
“Oui, thank you Anna.”

***

Dean watches Castiel work with awe and a pinch of intimidation. It doesn’t take the other man more than five minutes to prepare the dishes and once Anna is out the door with the order, Dean leans against the counter and sighs.  
“You serious?”, he says, laughing at the curious look on Cas’ face “I mean… I appreciate the effort but do you really trust me to handle your kitchenware already? I don’t wanna burn the food or, you know, your kitchen !?”  
But Castiel doesn’t give Dean much more time to contradict or bitch out, pressing a spatula into his hand and showing him once more how to make a crepe. By the end of the day, Dean is an expert in making whipped cream and can produce a decent crepe, without painting the surrounding walls with batter and chocolate powder. He’s actually pretty proud on himself and helps Anna bringing out the dinner orders gladly. When there’s only one couple left sitting outside and watching the night sky, Dean pulls off the apron and sinks down against the kitchen counter, wiping the sweat off his forehead.  
“I wasn’t aware that I had to pay with physical labor for sleeping with you”, he jokes, but then smiles and pats on the ground covered with flour next to him, to motion Cas to sit down as well.

***

The day had been an extremely long one for Castiel. Not only had he been making most of the orders himself, with Anna's help, but he was teaching Dean as he was going. It was twice as much effort, and he often had to clean up after Dean, or remake dishes that he ruined at the beginning.  
Despite all that... It was the best day he had ever had in the café. Teaching Dean how to use all the equipment, how to make fresh whipped cream, even how to use the torch to caramelize things was amazing. Dean was eager to learn everything Castiel had to teach him, and was a happy student, rather than sullen and grumpy as Gabriel had been at first. Cas was absolutely exhausted, but he was also incredibly happy. Smiling with Dean and sharing jokes, talking about their favorite music, and singing songs in both French and the few he knew in English (that he could now understand) made the day fly by, and soon it was almost closing time.  
Castiel watched as Dean sinks to the floor with a groan, and then pats the spot next to him.  
Castiel sits down on the floor with a frown on his face, Dean's last statement echoing in his mind.  
“... I do not... understand?”  
He tilts his head to one side, frowning slightly. Perhaps he had misheard, but it sounded like Dean was saying something about paying Cas for sex? He frowns deeper and stares at Dean, awaiting an answer.

***  
“  
Nevermind”, Dean says, brushing his hand over Cas’ arm and smiling “I was just joking.”  
They sit like that for a while, just resting and breathing before Cas goes out to drop off the check to the remaining guests. Dean starts cleaning the mess he’d made in the kitchen and together they finish around 11pm. Dean folds the apron neatly and putting it - together with the towel he used to dry off the clean dishes - on a free space on the countertop. Biting his lip, he looks up at Castiel, not sure how to act or what to say. This day had been fun, talking and working with Castiel and it had made Dean even more certain that he was indeed falling for the man. But after seeing him all day, having him this close and not being able to touch him had been hard and now that they’re alone again, there’s nothing he wants to do more, than just kiss him until they’re both breathless. But then he remembers their last nights and how sore Castiel still must be and he’s not so sure if the other man would even want him around for longer. And as hard as it would be, Dean would leave Castiel alone for tonight if that was what he wanted. He stretches out one hand, stroking his fingers over Castiel’s arm and pulling him in, his lips brushing over the other man’s gently.  
“Today was fun”, he murmurs against the warm skin and smiles “Thank you.”

***

Castiel smiles into the kiss.  
“De rien, Dean...”  
Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss, a slow, lazy kiss, Castiel melting against Dean's body as if the heat from Dean's flesh was enough to undo all the work weary knots in Castiel's own body...  
“Dean... Will you... Stay the night?”  
He kisses Dean again softly, brushing his dry lips gently against Dean's, the faintest of touches, before looking up into Dean's eyes, his own widening. Castiel's breath catches and he speaks in a whisper to himself, as if he can't stop the words before they pour out of him.  
“Tu es la plus belle chose qui me soit jamais arrivée.”  
A flush settles over his cheeks and Castiel looks away then unlinks his arms from around Dean's neck, backing away from Dean quickly and clearing his throat, his mind having swiftly changed in that one moment of acknowledging just how deeply he was beginning to feel for the American.  
“... Maybe... It will be better... For you to go....”  
Castiel wanted Dean to stay so badly. His heart clenched in his chest at the thought of sleeping alone after finding someone so warm; the idea of Dean's arms not wrapping around him tonight made him physically ache. But Castiel also knew this was self preservation.  
Dean was leaving in two months. Castiel couldn't let himself become so wrapped up in the other man... He knew what heart break did to people, and having never experienced it himself, he wasn't sure how... Or even if... He could handle it.  
Castiel bites his lower lip and walks away from Dean to grab the apron and towel Dean had been using to walk them to the cellar where the clothes washer was.

***

Dean watches Castiel pull away and walk over to a small door leading to the basement. He bites his lip, a deep frown on his face. Sure, he’d already settled with not staying the night- but Castiel first asking him to stay and then basically shoving him away, both physically and emotionally, hurt. When the other man climbs the stairs back up to the kitchen, Dean is still there, looking at him with concern.  
“Alright”, he says slowly, clearing his throat and standing there a bit awkwardly “I’ll see you tomorrow?!”  
It’s part question, part promise, Dean still not sure if that’s what Castiel wants to hear at all. So he doesn’t step closer, like he wants so badly, doesn’t kiss Castiel good night, doesn’t tell him he can’t wait to see him again, doesn’t want to leave or to let go of his hand ever again.  
“Good night, Cas…”  
He keeps looking at him for a moment longer, waiting, hoping for something. Then he turns around, walking out the kitchen, unlocking the backdoor and leaving the café, taking the stairs down to the beach. He needs some time to think and a 30-minute walk back to the hotel seems just about right…

***

There's the sound of footsteps behind him down the stairs and then the chaotic shift of sand before arms are thrown around Dean from behind, a warm body crashing into his with enough force to push him forward but not knock him over.  
“Oui-... Yes... Dean...”  
Castiel's arms tighten around Dean's torso, one hand resting against his chest, the other lower around his waist, squeezing slightly. Castiel's voice seems a little strained, full of emotion, his face buried into the back of Dean's shirt. He couldn't stand the idea of Dean leaving like that, face so... sad. It had been so obvious when Castiel had come back up from the cellar, and then Dean had left so quickly, Cas didn't even have time to ask him to come back for lunch the next day.  
So he ran after him, heart pounding in his chest, regretting ever telling him to leave in the first place.  
“I'm sorry... I did not mean... Please do not be mad.”

***

Dean stumbles backwards as lean arms wrap around him and after the initial moment of surprise, he too puts his arms around Castiel’s body and pulls him closer.  
“It‘s okay”, he mumbles, one hand brushing over the other’s dark hair, his lips whispering against the warm skin of his cheek “I’m not mad, it’s okay…”  
They stay like this for a while, Dean holding Castiel tighter, scared that when he would let go of him now, the other man would start to cry or collapse and he couldn’t deal with that now… When he pulls back slightly after almost five minutes, Castiel doesn’t shake anymore and even returns his smile with a small one of his own.  
“I’ll come back tomorrow, I promise… just-… Make sure you surprise me with a new cake, okay?”  
His smile widens a bit before he leans down to kiss Castiel, tender and careful, his hands still holding his hips loosely.

***

Castiel leans up into the kiss, soft sound of contentment coming from his throat, eyes shut as he enjoys Dean's warmth for just another moment.  
“Ah-... Yes... I will make that.”  
He bites his lower lip and smiles, then leans up again quickly to kiss Dean's cheek once more before turning around and running back the way he had come over the sound, surprisingly graceful across the shifting surface, each step light until he skipped up the stairs two at a time. Castiel pauses at the top and turns around, smiling at Dean and giving him a tiny wave with just his hand.  
He turns back around and walks back into the café through the wrought iron gate, quickly disappearing in the pitch black shadow of the café's backyard.  
Castiel goes inside and strips his clothes off, flopping down on his bed to look out the window, the summer breeze gliding in through the open window, smelling of jasmine and orange and fig blossoms. . The curtains dance, the light from the moon shifting as they move, and Castiel finds himself thinking of green eyes that sparkle with sunlight, freckles as numerous as stars in the night sky way out in the country side where there are no lights to compete with their beauty.  
He touches his body slowly, brushing fingertips over the curve of his hip and the flat planes of his stomach, eyes shutting with a sigh as he imagines it's Dean, pulling him in tight to wrap his arms around Castiel's body once again, nuzzling against his neck and whispering soft words against his ear. Castiel falls asleep to the thought of Dean saying he'll stay, and wakes up the next morning happy- until he realizes that his dream was truly only a dream... And he's alone in his bed, of his own doing.

***

Dean takes his time on his way back along the beach. He can barely see anything, even though the crescent moon is illuminating the darkness at least a little, so he just keeps taking small steps, his now naked feet sinking into the soft sand. By the time he reaches the hotel area, he’s even more confused than before. Weighing out the pros and cons of staying - actually, honest-to-god staying in freaking France - had been easier than he’d thought but still… The thought of it scared Dean. Leaving home, his country, for another person… He knew that Castiel had feelings for him, that he had been his first. It wasn’t something he believed Castiel would lie about, so Dean had to be special to him… But love? A relationship? Dean doesn’t know if this is what Castiel is looking for. What if this was a welcome change, a nice, little summer fling and who knew if Castiel wouldn’t be glad when Dean left in two months, who knew if he’d be tired of having him around very soon? Dean just couldn’t risk that… But there wasn’t much holding him in the US, his parents were dead, Sam and Jessica were living here… And he could do his job almost everywhere on this planet, as long as it had wi-fi and electric sockets. He falls into his bed with that thought… Living in France… Moving here for a man, for Castiel… And despite all the problems and conflicts this train of thought brought with it, Dean falls asleep with a smile on his lips.

***

Castiel manages the café on his own today, having the first night of actual sleep in the past three days. He ends up making a cake that his grandmother taught him how to make when he was a child for Dean, all while making all the orders for the cafe as well. Today was slow luckily, and by noon there only 15 people enjoying their lunch in the backyard.  
The cake was done and sitting in the fridge, and Castiel was singing in the kitchen again, soft gravelly deep voice changing the tune once again to fit his voice. He had made Dean a Charlotte Russe, a cake made from brandy soaked lady fingers, or boudoirs, that line the inside of a pan that is then filled with a rich dark chocolate mousse. The cake was done by 8am, but he knew that it would need at least 8 hours to firm up and be ready, so he figured he could bring it out for dessert after making Dean dinner again tonight. Perhaps something with steak. He knew that Americans liked red meat, but would have to ask Dean.  
He was unlike any other American, or man, for that matter, that Castiel had ever met. He was so different, in all the right ways, that even thinking about him made Castiel smile to himself, flushing whenever a customer caught him daydreaming.  
Castiel works on a platter of thumbprint cookies, filling the tiny hollow with preserves in different flavors, and singing under his breath something by Imogen Heap, a band he'd heard on the radio. The singer's voice was ethereal, and Castiel was a little saddened that his deep voice couldn't give the song the same kind of airy feel, but he liked it all the same.

***

Dean wakes up early, the taste of Castiel still on his lips, as he steps out on the balcony and watches the sunrise on the horizon. He doesn’t leave the hotel until after noon, around 3.30pm, not wanting to risk to annoy Castiel, to give him any reason to tell Dean not to come by anymore. It’s odd... He feels-… He knows that Castiel likes him but there’s this stupid insecurity, those doubts clouding his mind, scaring him of losing what he finally had found with the shy Frenchman…  
When he enters the café from the street, Castiel is behind the counter, selling sweets to some kids and then looking up, his face brightening up with a smile, as he notices Dean. Dean returns the gesture, mouthing a “Hey” and then walking outside to take a seat on his usual table, while Cas has to stay inside a little longer, serving an elderly couple. Finally Castiel follows Dean outside, standing a bit awkwardly next to the table. Dean doesn’t get up to kiss him, but only because he doesn’t want to cause more attention and he thinks that more gossip about the foreign guy kissing the owner of the café wasn’t exactly what Castiel preferred either. So he just looks up, smiling widely and winks at the other man.  
“Missed you”, he says quietly and feels his cheeks blush slightly “Uhm… Can I have a coffee, please? And… Did you have time to bake something new?”

***

Castiel nods and leans down to kiss Dean gently on his cheek.  
“Oui… I… would like to save it for dinner...”  
He stands back up and smiles shyly, looking down at his hands.  
“If… Will you have dinner with me?… S’il te plait… I will close ze café early, we will dine here?”  
Castiel fidgets with his apron, hoping that Dean would agree. He wanted so badly to make Dean a nice dinner, just the two of them, share the cake with him and then spend the evening getting to know him better.  
He wanted to know what Dean wrote about, more about his family and friends, how his kicking the cigarette habit was going. Castiel just wanted to get to know Dean even better, because he had spent all morning running through his mind with questions he wanted to know the answers to when it came to Dean. What was his favorite color, and where was he born? How old was he exactly, and how many boyfriends had he had, did he always know he was gay? Was he even gay, or was he bisexual? So many questions, and Castiel just wanted to overflow with knowledge about Dean. There was so much yet undiscovered about the beautiful man.  
He smiles again and licks his lips, finding it funny that he could still be so nervous even though they had already had sex.

***

Dean clears his throat, trying to hide how excited and happy Castiel’s suggestion made him and then nodded.  
“Yeah, sure. That sounds perfect.”  
He watches Castiel going back inside and returning with the usual cup of coffee shortly after. Afterwards, Dean pulls out his laptop to work some more on his notes. He’s already outlined the first part of the story, the warm-up for the thriller story. He’s changed some things, making Claire, the girlfriend of his main character, a little more shy than planned, turning her bright, blonde mane into dark, ebony hair… He’s staring at the 50 pages he’d only written so far, inhaling deeply and leaning back, pulling back his hands from the keyboard, his eyes searching for Castiel. And as he walks past him and Dean can feel a soft rush of air, smell the scent of his shampoo mixed with something that was uniquely Castiel, Dean decides that ‘Claire’ will be ‘Cain’ and that this would be his first book with a gay protagonist. The afternoon ticks by rather quickly, Dean’s fingers practically flying over the keyboard, now that this barrier had fallen off of him and by the time, Castiel sits down on the armrest of his chair, Dean realizes that they’re alone again. He pushes his laptop shut and then pulls the other man into his lap, cupping his cheek and then kissing him softly, longingly.

***

Castiel hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders loosely. He wore a deep blue button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as usual, collar open just enough to show off a hint of collarbone and chest. The color was his second favorite, his first being cheery sunny yellow, and he knew it accented his eyes perfectly. Castiel still had his stained apron on, not having finished their dinner just yet.  
“Mmm… Dean… The food is almost prête, um…done, will you come inside?”  
He runs his hands along the back of Dean’s head, playing with the short hair there, fingers brushing back and forth like he was playing with the bristles of a brush.  
The smell from inside was delicious, warm and hearty, with accents of maple and oak. Castiel had made a bacon wrapped pork filet mignon stuffed with beaufort cheese, a spinach salad with fresh strawberries and a balsamic vinaigrette topped with sliced almonds, and fresh baked baguettes that were sliced up and lightly toasted with an olive oil with rosemary infused into it. The cake was still hidden in the fridge for dessert, and Castiel hoped that Dean would like it best of all.

***

Dean groans disapprovingly into the kiss, the prospect of having to stop kissing Castiel - even if the most delicious food would be waiting for him to devour it - unbearable. Still he nods, a little disappointed though, and gets up, sliding his laptop in the bag and following Castiel inside. The interior was empty, just as the yard was and there was one table fully set, a candle burning in the middle of it. Dean turns around to look at Castiel, grinning slyly.  
“We already slept together, you don’t need to court me anymore”, he jokes, trying to hide the fact that he’s actually kind of touched by the effort Castiel had taken in setting all this up. Castiel doesn’t let him into the kitchen, ordering him to sit down and wait and so all Dean can do is watch through the small window, savouring the downright aphrodisiac smell of the food Castiel is preparing. When the other man brings out the first course, spinach salad and baguettes, Dean’s mouth is already watering and he notices only then just how hungry he is. He knows, Cas is watching him taking his first bite and as usual Dean doesn’t even need to pretend to like it, those almost pornographic sounds as the vinaigrette runs down his throat coming completely naturally.  
“God, you can’t be real”, Dean sighs and smiles over the table at the other man.

***

Castiel sits across from Dean, his apron finally taken off revealing slim cut black slacks and black shoes that are actually just slightly shiny sneakers. He eats slowly, savoring the flavors as well. The sharp sweet burst of flavor from the strawberry coupled with the rich bite of the vinaigrette are perfect, and the rosemary smell is strong on the slices of baguette. He blushes as red as the sliced fruit in their salads when Dean compliments him, the flush rushing to his cheeks at Dean’s soft words. Castiel smiles and ducks his head slightly, choosing the moment to remember he had poured them some wine. He walks back into the kitchen and returns with two glasses filled with a rich red wine, a Gevrey-Chambertin Pinot Noir, the smell of it intense even for a red, thick with cherry, blackcurrant and a hint of licorice and oak from the barrels.  
Castiel swirls the wine and inhales slowly, before sipping it and sighing.  
“C'est parfait...”  
He finishes his first glass with just the first course, then once he and Dean are done goes back into the kitchen for the second course. The filet mignon came out perfectly, juicy and fragrant on the inside, the bacon having cooked to a light crisp on the outside, and the beaufort melted on the inside slides out with each cut into the meat. Each plate is laid out delicately, a mountain of mashed blue cauliflower underneath each filet, the striking purple and blue color offsetting the rest of the dish’s creams and pinks and reds. Castiel smiles as he puts the first piece into his mouth, chewing slowly while watching Dean and waiting for the characteristic moan of pleasure. He had never known anyone to be so vocal about food, and found it to be entirely enjoyable. Castiel grins when Dean does moan, as always, and can’t help the chuckle that escapes his throat.

***

Dean swallows his first bite, before looking up into Castiel’s smiling face.  
“What’s so funny?”, he asks teasingly, knowing that Castiel finds it pleasurable watching him eat and knows from the at times awed expression on his face, that he still can’t quite believe that Dean likes his food so much. Which he does. Goodness, does he love Castiel’s meals. He’s used to junkfood, to frozen foods and take-out food… France has been something different and new from the very beginning but nothing compared to the delicacies Castiel served him up every time. Dean eats as slow as he can, considering how hungry he is and how delicious the meat - and even the cauliflower - is. By the time they’re both done with the main course, they’ve had a few glasses of wine - Dean actually lost count - and as usual, Dean gets even more bold, while Castiel doesn’t blush as easily as sober and even manages to leave Dean speechless a few times, with his wit and charm. Castiel speaking French was pretty sexy already but the way his tongue curled around the words, once he was more than just a little tipsy, was just the right mixture of endearing and incredibly hot. Dean leans back, enjoying the show, even though he still doesn’t understand most of the words Castiel is muttering.  
“So… What’s for dessert?”, he finally asks, when Castiel mirrors his movement, leaning back and taking a sip of his wine.

***

Castiel grins and sits back up to set the wine glass back down.  
“Come and see.”  
He stands up and walks into the kitchen and over to the fridge, opening it and bending over to grab the cake from one of the lower shelves. Castiel turns around, closes the fridge with his foot, a little clumsy from the wine, but manages it all the same before walking to the center island and putting the cake down on it.  
“Please, a knife? That one...?”  
He points to a large strip of metal with magnetic blocks embedded in it, holding the knives to it on the wall. Castiel gets out one of the many cake servers and two plates, along with a whipped cream canister that wasn't empty from earlier in the day. Once Dean hands him the knife Castiel makes quick work of the cake, slicing two medium sized portions and plating them with surprising grace for how drunk he was. He giggles when he puts the whipped cream on top of the chocolate mousse and lady finger cake, and as he can tell the canister is almost empty, finishes it off by spraying the last bit on his finger, then offering it to Dean to lick off. Castiel bites his lower lip and giggles again, blushing. A drunken Castiel was a bubbly Castiel, most of the shyness worn off and replaced by someone that only his close family and friends got to see, someone that was coming out more and more around Dean when he was sober, but wasn't a common occurrence just yet.

***

Dean watches Castiel work with interest but most of all amusement. As much as he appreciated the shy and reserved Castiel, it was adorable how open and cheery he was, once he was drunk. When Castiel offers his finger to Dean, the man leans in eagerly and licks the cream off, closing his lips around the tip of his finger to suck, even though most of the white cream is already gone. Pulling back with a quiet popping sound, he takes the plates out of Castiel’s hands, carrying them back to the table and putting them down on each of their places. Castiel is so gone, that he doesn’t even seem to notice his own plate, just staring at Dean out of glazed and awed eyes, watching him taking his first, second, third bite. And Dean, noticing the attention of course, decides to torture him a little. He wraps his lips around the fork slowly, pulling the cake off it and swallowing it, licking his lips and then the cutlery teasingly. In the end he finishes a second slice of cake before Castiel even started on his first and Dean decides to go help him. He gets up and walks around the table, pulling Castiel’s chair back slightly and swinging his leg over Castiel’s body, sitting down in his lap, facing him with a cheeky smile. He reaches for the plate behind him, spearing a piece of cake and guiding it towards Castiel’s mouth.  
“C’mon, Cas-… Open up wide. I’m telling you, this is like… The orgasm of this dinner…”

***

Castiel grins at that and leans up to take the fork into his mouth, closing his lips slowly around it the way Dean had. He knew what the mousse tasted like, and the brandy soaked lady fingers weren't new, but there was something about eating it while drunk, being fed by Dean with the other man in his lap... It all made it that much more exciting, delicious, perfect. He smiles and licks his lips once he's done with the bite and nods.  
“Yes, very good.”  
Castiel wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him even closer, deep voice a little husky when he speaks.  
“You are-... More delicious... zhan any dessert I have ever cooked...”  
Cas smiles and kisses Dean gently, lips teasingly soft and just slightly wet against Dean's own.  
“... I wish to show you something... Come!”  
Castiel stands up, almost dumping Dean off of his lap, and then he's jogging across the kitchen to the stairs that lead to his apartment, taking them two at a time until he gets to the top. The unused kitchen in his apartment has a large window that leads out onto a narrow fire escape, which Castiel nimbly climbs through to stand on the fire escape and beckon Dean to follow him.  
“Come!”  
He makes it to the rooftop easily, even drunk his body knows the way, having done this at least once a day everyday for the last three years.  
Once on top of the roof Dean can see a veritable forest of plants: there are mini fruit trees and full size flowering vines, large potted shade trees and fruit vines on trellis, rows upon rows of small flower beds that look hand made from old crates nailed together to create rectangular beds perfect for holding soil and water in. Castiel grins as he spins back around to look at Dean.  
“This is my garden... I grow... many of the foods for the kitchen here.”

***

Dean doesn’t have time to react to the sweet compliment Castiel had given him and follows the other man quickly inside and up the stairs, until they’re coming to a halt under the endless starry sky. Dean is breathless for a moment, both because of the quick ascension of the many stairs and the beautiful view, Castiel’s silhouette in front of the far lights of Le Havre and the shimmering stars. Then he looks around, spotting the small trees, the flower beds; he can see and understand that this is Castiel’s pride and joy. His lips form a silent ‘Wow’ as he steps closer, putting an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, as he lets his gaze wander over the adorable rooftop garden.  
“This is beautiful”, he says quietly and turns his head to smile at Cas, pressing his lips gently to his temple.  
They stay like this for a while, just looking, Dean holding Castiel loosely, his hand gliding tenderly along the other man’s sides.

***

Castiel smiles and leans his head against Dean's shoulder for a while, quietly explaining in a mish mash of French and English what all the plants were, and how he used them for cooking, or that they were just nice to look at.  
Some time passes and Castiel quiets, looking down at his hand hanging uselessly between their bodies. He turns and takes Dean's hand in his, palms facing one another, fingers intertwined. Castiel smiles at their hands, then flicks his gaze to Dean's face, the smile growing wider.  
“I like this.”  
He tilts his head to one side and sighs gently, the smile fading a bit, but becoming a content closed lipped smile, rather than a happy grin. Castiel's face is calm, adoration plainly laid out there as he stares into Dean's eyes. He swallows thickly, trying to shush the voices in the back of his head that warned him not to get too close, be wary, don't dive in, don't get hurt.  
Instead, Castiel leans in for a soft kiss, lips trembling slightly as he speaks, his voice gravelly with emotion. Brilliant blue eyes dart up from their lips to look into Dean's, traces of worry there, but overwhelmingly the only emotion Dean can see is pure affection.  
“Tu veux rester?”  
A breeze from the sea rushes in, ruffling Castiel's hair, the leaves of the trees and plants around them dancing on it, the quiet moment interrupted by the sea.

***

Dean returns the content smile, thinking about Castiel’s words for a moment.  
“I don’t wanna sleep yet”, he says a little confused, interpreting the last French word as ‘rest’ instead of ‘stay’, which makes Castiel smile with amusement. After the other man enlightens Dean, he grins a bit awkwardly and then nods.  
“Of course I’ll stay”, he says quietly, squeezing Castiel’s hand lightly and leaning down to kiss his lips gently “I’ll do anything you want.”  
He pulls back slightly, looking into Castiel’s eyes, making it clear to him that he means it, that right now, in this very moment, Dean would do anything for Castiel.

***

Castiel smiles and kisses Dean back, and when Dean pulls back he notices that Cas looks… calm. Totally at ease around Dean, as if these moments of quiet together had stripped him of the alcoholic buzz he had going, and now Cas was back to his quiet self, shy and reserved- but obviously happy. He wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and sways slightly as he presses their bodies together; he moves his head in to rest it against Dean’s, forehead to forehead, and in that moment it surprises Dean to realize that Castiel was almost as tall as he is. He’d always thought of the man as much shorter, but he wasn’t, just slender, leaner than Dean was by far.

“Then… Danse avec moi?”

He shuts his eyes and hums softly, a gentle tune, before singing just above a whisper, his voice slower than the song normally goes, singing just for Dean in the warm summer night.

“Il semble que quelqu’un ait convoqué l’espoir  
Les rues sont des jardins, je danse sur les trottoirs  
Il semble que mes bras soient devenus des ailes  
Qu’à chaque instant qui vole je puisse toucher le ciel  
Qu’à chaque instant qui passe je puisse manger le ciel

Les clochers sont penchés les arbres déraisonnent  
Ils croulent sous les fleurs au plus roux de l’automne  
La neige ne fond plus la pluie chante doucement  
Et même les réverbères ont un air impatient  
Et même les cailloux se donnent l’air important

Car je suis l’amoureuse, oui je suis l’amoureuse  
Et je tiens dans me mains la seule de toutes les choses  
Je suis l’amoureuse, je suis ton amoureuse  
Et je chante pour toi la seule de toutes les choses  
Qui vaille d’être là, qui vaille d’être là

Le temps s’est arrêté, les heures sont volages  
Les minutes frissonnent et l’ennui fait naufrage  
Tout paraît inconnu tout croque sous la dent  
Et le bruit du chagrin s’éloigne lentement  
Et le bruit du passé se tait tout simplement

Oh, les murs changent de pierres,  
Le ciel change de nuages,  
La vie change de manières et dansent les mirages  
On a vu m’a-t-on dit le destin se montrer  
Il avait mine de rien l’air de tout emporter  
Il avait ton allure, ta façon de parler

Car je suis l’amoureuse, oui je suis l’amoureuse  
Et je tiens dans mes mains la seule de toutes les choses  
Je suis l’amoureuse, je suis ton amoureuse  
Et je chante pour toi la seule de toutes les choses  
Qui vaille d’être là, qui vaille d’être là”

(translated for our readers: L’amoureuse ~ Carla Bruni

It seems someone conveyed hope  
Streets are gardens, I dance on the sidewalks  
It seems my arms became wings  
That in every moment that flies by I can touch the sky  
That in every moment that passes by I can bite the sky

The bell towers are bending, the trees talk nonsense  
Weighed under the reddest autumn flowers  
Snow doesn’t melt anymore, rain is slowly singing  
And even streetlights have an impatient air  
And even stones lend themselves importance

Because I’m the lover, Yes I’m the lover  
And I hold in my hands the only thing  
I’m the lover, I’m your lover  
And I sing for you, the only thing  
Worth being here, worth being here

Time has stopped, hours are fickle  
The minutes shiver and this boredom is a ship wreck  
Everything seems unknown, everything crunches under the teeth  
And the noise of sorrow slowly goes away  
And the noise of the past is just silent now

Oh, the walls are changing their stones  
The sky changes his clouds  
Life changes it’s ways and dance in mirages  
It was seen was I told that destiny is showing  
He looked like nothing, seemed to take everything  
He got your look, your way of speaking

Because I’m the lover, Yes I’m the lover  
And I hold in my hands the only thing  
I’m the lover, I’m your lover  
And I sing for you the only thing  
Worth being here, worth being here)

***

For a moment all Dean can do is smile and wonder if Cas is serious. But then he hears his quiet voice, tongue curling so gracefully about words Dean can’t quite comprehend but knows are full of affection and solely for him. So what if he thinks it’s a bit cheesy and what if the thought crosses his mind, that he would never ever do something like this if it wasn’t for Cas? What if he wraps one arm around Castiel’s waist and rests the other on his shoulder, thumb stroking the side of his neck, as they slowly sway to the tune Castiel is humming. Dean loses track of time, looking at Cas out of half closed eyelids, his mouth becoming incredibly dry, as he thinks that he’s never done something as ridiculously romantic, never seen something beautiful like this. Then Cas stops singing and Dean raises a hand to cup his cheek, the other sliding around his back, pulling him in closer. The words come without Dean thinking about them. But even if he did take the time to think this through, Dean would’ve found that yes, it feels good and right and perfect. So when his lips form the sweet words, he regrets nothing, except maybe for not having said them earlier…  
“I think I’m in love with you, Cas…”


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel's breath catches in his throat and his blue eyes widen at Dean's words- he had learned enough English to know the significance of what Dean was saying, and it made his entire body freeze for a moment. He swallows thickly and then shakes his head slightly, looking down and away.  
“Dean...”  
He didn't know what to say. Cas knew he liked Dean...knew that he was so fond of him, and felt stronger for Dean than anyone else in his entire life. Castiel knew this was the beginnings of love, or at least he felt that it had to be, because what else could this intensely strong feeling thudding away in his too tight chest be?  
Castiel looks back up at Dean, something like fear in his eyes.  
“... J'ai peur... Dean... I...”, he pauses and licks his lips, before continuing, his breath shuddering, deep.  
“... I want to feel this... I... want to love you...”  
He buries his face in Dean's neck, arms tight around his waist.  
“I've never...”

***

It hurts, of course it does. It’s not the reaction Dean had hoped for but the one he had expected. So he tries his best to hide the disappointment, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and stroking his back gently.  
“I know, Cas, I know”, he says quietly, soothingly “I’m scared, too.”  
He holds him for a while, neither of them saying a word. But Cas is still here. And he said he wants to love him back. So as Dean sees it, this is far from a failure. You can’t just fall in love with someone and expect him to love you back immediately. This… Love needed time. Time they probably didn’t have. And both Dean and Castiel knew this. Maybe this was the reason for Castiel’s hesitation, his blatant fear. Eventually Dean pulls back a bit, waiting for Castiel to raise his head and return his gaze shyly.  
“I just wanted you to know…”

***

Castiel smiles gently and nods, shutting his eyes as he leans in to kiss Dean again, his hands pressed flat against Dean’s back, pulling them close again. His heart thumped like a frightened rabbit’s whenever they kissed, and the way Dean touched or held him sent shivers up Castiel’s spine. His mind screamed the words, babbled incoherently as Dean threaded a hand through his hair, but another part of his brain scrambled for control, forced the other part down, back and away. Castiel was terrified of admitting it out loud, because if he did, then that meant he had lost himself in this, and that meant that when Dean left to go back home to America… He was lost. And Cas didn’t know how to come back from that kind of loss, it wasn’t something that anyone in his family was capable of.

When his Grandparents had died, one right after the other, and then his parents in the same manner 5 years later, he knew that it was heart break that killed the one left on Earth. Heartbreak from losing the person they loved had killed them, the sadness had drowned their existence, made it unbearable to live any longer, until they just gave up one day. Castiel knew this, and understood it, because that was how everyone in his family loved- wholly, finally, and completely. They loved forever, because that was the only way to love in their eyes.

If he admitted to himself that he loved Dean… Admitted it to every piece of himself, and to Dean, out loud, then he would have to face the idea of losing the person he loved- and even the thought of it made his chest painfully tight and constricted. Castiel couldn’t bear it, so he would shut it up and away, and hide from it all, keep it locked away in a box in the back of his head- safe from the light of day and the harsh reality that in less than two months, Dean would be leaving.

Castiel slides his hands to wrap his arms around Dean’s neck, breaking the kiss to whisper quietly, voice wrecked, against Dean’s lips,

“Make love to me Dean...”

He couldn’t say it out loud, but maybe he could say it with his body. Maybe that would be enough to show Dean how he felt, without betraying himself, and opening everything out there, where it was dangerous, and the consequences deadly.

***

Dean doesn’t know about Castiel’s inner conflict, his fears and worries, how could he? So when Castiel whispers sweetly, shyly against his lips, Dean doesn’t hesitate. He nods once, cupping Castiel’s face warily and kissing him gently, before taking his hand into his own, walking back to the stairway leading down to his apartment. They take the steps carefully and once they’re inside Castiel’s bedroom, Dean lets the other man walk him backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he tumbles backwards, pulling Castiel with him. Dean spreads his legs, wrapping them around Castiel’s hips and drawing him in closer, pressing their bodies flush to each other. He breathes quiet words into Castiel’s ear, affectionate words in soft English and sloppy French and Dean’s not sure if it’s his attempt on speaking Castiel’s language or their cocks rubbing against one another is the reason for the other man’s throaty groans.  
“How do you want it?”, he asks calmly - or as calm as possible with someone as beautiful as Castiel so close “Tell me, Cas.”  
He looks up at him, face expectantly, fingers skating over Castiel’s upper body eagerly, unbuttoning his shirt swiftly.

***

Castiel swallows hard around the lump in his throat and he kisses Dean again, whispering softly in French before he finds the right words in English.

“I… want to make you feel good…”  
Cas bites his lower lip as his eyes search Dean’s, before he reaches down and pulls Dean’s shirt up, yanking it up and over his head to toss it down on the floor. Callused hands roam Dean’s chest, fingers trembling slightly before becoming more sure, gliding over the muscles of Dean’s torso. Every bump and crevice, Castiel’s fingers roam across, finding new spots that make Dean arch or moan. He smiles and tilts his head to one side, leaning down to kiss along his collarbone, in the hollow of his throat, licking at the slightly salty skin there before continuing on, down, over his broad chest, thumbs brushing over Dean’s nipples until his hands grip around his ribs, firm in their hold as Castiel continues exploring.

He moves slowly, dry lips brushing over inches of tanned skin, stopping at every large freckle to kiss and suck gently, marking Dean just barely, his moments measured and loving, not rushed. Castiel takes his time, fingers mapping out the way Dean feels, every ridge of bone and muscle under his hands being committed to memory. Castiel kisses down Dean’s stomach, tongue flicking out in the divot of his belly button, smoothing firm kisses across to a hip bone, the barest brush of teeth there. Castiel’s fingers form slight claws, fingernails scraping just barely down Dean’s sides, sending shivers up the man’s spine as Castiel murmurs against his warm skin.

“Need to see you… Enlève ça…”

***

Dean arches his back with every of Castiel’s touches, mouth wide open in soundless gasps and sighs. His hands grab Castiel’s head, fingers carding through his dark hair, as he wanders down, down, over Dean’s chest and belly and towards the part of his body that can’t seem to get close enough to what it desires. Nimble fingers find their way into his pants, one undoing the button and zipper, the other tugging the fabric down, leaving Dean clothed with only his boxers.  
“Oh God”, Dean moans, biting his lip hard, trying to hold back the asking, the begging, but it’s too much.  
“Cas, please-… Your lips…”  
He can’t say anything else, his whole body tensing as Castiel’s fingers glide over his trembling body, his hips, his thighs, Castiel’s mouth still over Dean’s lower body, his hot breath ghosting over sweaty skin.

***

Castiel blushes but nods and licks his lips before pulling the boxers down and off of Dean’s legs. He positions Dean so that he can kneel on the rug on the floor between Dean’s legs which dangle off the side of the bed. Cas kisses up Dean’s thigh, fingers moving gently over his skin simultaneously on each leg.  
The hands and his mouth reach Dean’s cock at the same time, brushing over the delicate skin softly, his lips caressing it as on hand wraps around the base to steady Dean’s length for Castiel’s eager lips. He wraps them around the head and slides his tongue over the tip, blushing even deeper at the shuddering moan that escapes him at tasting Dean again, sweet and salty against his tongue. Cas looks up at Dean, the moonlight just enough to cast everything in a deep blue glow, the entire room thrown with shadows and dancing lights from the curtains around the open windows. A breeze comes through and blows over Dean’s skin, goose bumps popping up over his bare torso and hips, Castiel’s free hand slides over his stomach to smooth the skin back down, gripping slightly as he opens his mouth wider to take more of Dean’s cock inside.

His tongue swirls around the head and then down the length, Cas licking gently at first, then firmly, pressing along the underside as Dean had done with him, wanting so badly to see Dean wail with pleasure, come completely undone under his hands. Castiel knew what he wanted to do, see happen, tonight. He would make love to Dean, leave the other man breathless, so that the confession wasn’t wasted on someone who didn’t care. Because Castiel did- he cared so much about the beautiful man lying on the bed gasping as he takes him ever deeper into his mouth. He just knew he couldn’t say it out loud. That would make it real, and reality was harsh and cold and fickle. Cas wanted to stay like this, in their private little world, forever.

***

Dean can feel every motion, ever change of the angle, literally everything Cas is doing to him, both pleasing and torturing him at the same time. His hands grasp the dark hair tightly, desperately tugging and pressing, while his mouth falls open with long-drawn-out moans and praises. Cas wasn’t very skilled or experienced in this but Dean didn’t care, hell, the thought alone that it was Cas who was kneeling between his legs, his dry lips wrapped tightly, gently, teasingly around his cock almost made Dean come already. Dean bends his legs, spreading them even wider and offering himself to Castiel deliberately. But he’s so close already and he doesn’t want to do this alone, doesn’t want to be the only one to find release when Cas still remained untouched.  
“Cas”, he gasps, breath coming stuttering over his wide-open lips “Cas, s-stop…”  
His hands find Castiel’s shoulders, one touching his chin and gently pulling him off of himself. There’s worry in Cas’ eyes and Dean quickly slides down until he’s kneeling in front of Cas, until he can lean forward to kiss him tenderly.  
“God, Cas… So good… You’re so good…”  
He smiles into the kiss, steals one, two more, before climbing back up on the bed, pulling Cas with him and spreading him out beneath him.

***

Castiel blushes as he's laid out beneath Dean, arms resting on the bed on either side of his head, thrown back from when Dean pushed him onto the bed. Cas looks up at him with a look that was no longer nervous, just eager, full of amazement watching someone so gorgeous hovering over him.  
Cas reaches up with one hand to slide his fingers along Dean's cheek, cupping it gently, thumb brushing along his cheek.  
“Dean...”  
He arches his head up to kiss Dean gently, tilting his head to one side, opening his mouth up to deepen the kiss. Castiel wraps his other arm around Dean's shoulders, pulling him down so their bodies are flush against one another, Dean naked, Castiel half clothed still.  
“Please... Fais-moi l'amour...”  
He arches his hips up, rolling from his stomach up to grind his hips against Dean's, gasping just slightly.

***

The feeling of fabric against his own naked skin is both intoxicating and irritating and Dean can’t take it any longer. He reaches down with one hand, unbuttoning and unzipping Cas’ pants and pulling them off, then letting his hand travel upwards, disrobing his upper body as well. When they’re flesh on flesh, sweaty skin rubbing against one another, Dean leans down to kiss Castiel gently, lovingly.  
“Anything, baby.”, he breathes against his open lips.  
They keep kissing when Dean starts preparing Cas, fingers slick with spit and lotion from Castiel’s night stand and their lips only part for a second, as Dean slides inside his lover, slowly and carefully, taking his time sinking deeper and deeper until he’s filling out Castiel completely. Dean still feels sort of disappointed about Cas not saying ‘it’ back but he can’t bring himself to being too heartbroken over it, not when Cas is moaning and writhing beneath him, quiet sighs and hoarse gasps coming over his lips alternately, his voice hitching whenever Dean’s pressing against his prostate. Neither of them lasts very long, having missed those intimate touches too much in the last few hours. Dean comes first, emptying himself inside his lover and slipping out, his hand wrapping tightly around Castiel’s cock, thrusting and stroking and bringing him to climax shortly after. After they lie in silence, fingers intertwined, facing each other and tracing their moonlit bodies with affectionate looks. Castiel falls asleep soon, pressed against Dean and one of his arms wrapped around his torso, like he’d never let go again... At least that’s what Dean hopes this means…  
It’s the first morning they spend together, waking up in a real bed and Dean thinks that he could get used to Cas being the first thing he sees in the morning… He snuggles closer, kissing Castiel’s forehead and pulling back, watching the beautiful features of the still sleeping man.

***

Castiel wakes slowly, the first thing he's aware of is the smell of Dean pressed close, musky and warm and strong, like he's completely wrapped up in Dean. Which he is, having threaded his legs around one of Dean's and wrapped himself as close as possible in the tiny single bed, two full grown men not fitting spectacularly well unless they were completely tucked against one another. At least, that would be Castiel's excuse, now that he registers just how desperate and silly he must look, clinging to Dean like a climbing vine to a strong oak, every limb wrapped and gripping loosely. He inhales Dean's scent again, the start of bird song outside the next thing he notices, and just from how they're singing he knows that sunrise isn't far off, and indeed when Castiel opens his eyes, the sky is turning soft shades of tangerine and pink, the night being chased away by the start of the day.  
He yawns and brings a hand to stifle it, blushing and looking up at Dean, flushing even darker when he notices that Dean was already awake- and worse yet, watching him.  
“... Ah...Um... Good morning, Dean...”  
Castiel smiles and covers his mouth with one hand, quite sure that his morning breath is atrocious. He brings the edge of the sheet up to cover his mouth and speaks through it, muffled just slightly by the fabric.  
“...Will you be staying pour le petit déjeuner, or do you have to leave?”  
Castiel scoots up slightly so that his head is back on the pillow after having used Dean's chest as one for most of the night, their heads level again on the bed.

***

Dean smiles at Castiel’s obvious embarrassment, stretching out a hand to card his fingers through his thick, dark hair.  
“Where would I rather be than here?”, he mumbles, sincerity in his quiet, drowsy voice and then - at Castiel’s slightly confused look - adds “I will stay as long as you want me to.”  
He leans in to catch his lips in a soft kiss, slow and lazy and doesn’t let Cas pull back until they’re both breathless. He raises his head, pressing his lips to Cas’ forehead, before sitting up with a deep, reluctant groan and stretching himself carefully.  
“Tell you what : you can teach me how to make decent pancakes, ok?”

***

Castiel smiles and nods, then climbs slowly out of bed, stretching his lean body. The light is just starting to come into the bedroom, and Dean can see the long straight lines that make up Castiel's naked form. He smiles to himself, and within minutes they're in the shower, making love once again with Castiel pressed up against the wall, crying out with Dean buried deep inside of him, Dean's name hot on his lips.  
Dean's clothes are dirty, but luckily Castiel has a pair of larger jeans and a too-large shirt for him to wear, they're tight on Dean, but it works. Pancakes are easy, and Dean is a quick learner, if messy. By the end of the lesson only 3 pancakes were dropped on the floor from Dean flipping them, and they're only slightly covered in flour and batter. Castiel enjoys himself, eyes crinkling and dimples showing as he laughs out loud, the same laugh that Dean had heard before when Cas was around Anna or Gabriel- that open, honest laugh that was full of joy and almost tinkled when you heard it.  
They eat breakfast in the backyard, and soon it's time for the café to open up, and Castiel has to say goodbye to Dean, at least until he gets the bread baking and the first few customers taken care of. He kisses him slowly, arms wrapped around his waist, nuzzling close to nip at Dean's jawline.  
“Will I see you again later, or must you spend time writing?”

***

They both enjoy the time together, Dean taking his time watching Castiel making the pancakes and then making them by himself. After breakfast they stand close to each other, Cas leaning loosely against one of the large trees with Dean holding him there, kissing him gently.  
“Mh… Well, I should probably be writing... Deadline’s in three months…”, he mumbles against Castiel’s lips, pressing one more kiss on them “Even though I’d rather spend more time with you...”  
He smiles and shrugs his shoulders at Castiel’s both reproving and flustered look.  
He lets go of Castiel then, holding his hand for a moment, squeezing lightly, before turning around, shouldering his bag and leaving the café. He waits until his cab is on the road, then he pulls out his cell, typing a text message for Castiel and smiling to himself when he sends it.  
‘I’ll call you later, mon amour.’  
He spends the rest of the day - by way of a change - with writing. He’s around half finished with the book, which is always a critical stage. Most of the times he’s getting kind of listless, depressed even, uncertain of how to continue or if it was even worth going on. Not this time, though… The thought of Castiel spurs him on, the story of Adam - his main character - and Cain, his loving boyfriend capturing him more and more. He feels kind of weird not telling Cas about this, about shaping a character in his book completely after him. But he would have to… At least before the book was being published. He doesn’t know if Castiel is a fan or just randomly bought Dean’s book… Maybe Anna gave it to him and he’d never read it? Dean sighs… This is actually not helping…  
It’s after midnight when he checks the time and he quickly grabs his phone, dialing the number of Cas’ cell.  
“Sorry, I totally lost track of time”, he blurts once Cas picks up.

***

Castiel answers on the third ring, sounding distracted, voices in the background- laughter and music.  
“Ah, Dean?... It is okay... I um... must go though, Anna and Gabriel are here-”  
The phone is taken away from him and Dean can here Castiel speaking quickly and angrily in French but there's a different voice when Dean hears someone speaking into the phone the next time.  
“Dean, yes? Castiel is busy tonight! He has been spending toooooo much time with you, so we are stealing him!”  
Gabriel giggles, and Castiel curses in French in the background, but laughs as well, the sound of a scuffle easy to hear over the phone.  
“He'll see you tomorrow, okay, goodnight!”  
Gabriel giggles and then there's more scuffling before the line goes dead.  
Castiel had been spending a lot of time with Dean lately, and ignoring his cousin and sister more than he usually did. They were his closest friends, and he felt guilty when they came into the café for dinner and both looked a little sullen about Castiel not spending any of his free time with them. So he had agreed to dinner, and dinner had turned into drinks, and drinks had turned into midnight coffees on the rooftop, giggling and gossiping like they were back in High School. Castiel had missed them, had missed them, but he still felt bad about the abrupt way Gabriel had ended his conversation with Dean- but he hoped Dean would understand, because Gabriel blatantly refused to give him back the phone, threatening throwing it off the roof towards the ocean if Castiel even tried to take it back from him.  
So Castiel sat back down and spoke again, confirming that yes, Dean had said he loved him, and that Castiel had frozen, unable to say it back.  
*”But you do love him, don't you Castiel?”*  
*”...I... I don't know Anna...You know what that means with us.”*  
*”Yes, but you know I don't believe in that stuff Castiel! You won't die when he leaves-”*  
*”Hey hey now Anna, give poor little Castiel a break, he's allowed to believe in soul mates and true love if he wants to!”*  
Gabriel grinned at Castiel and nudged him in the air, obviously making fun of him.  
*”Oh, both of you shut up. I believe what I believe, and nothing will change that...”*  
He sighs, and both Anna and Gabriel shut up, recognizing that sigh as a sign that Castiel was about to get serious with them.  
*”... I want to love him. I do. But I don't want to lose myself when he leaves. I couldn't bear the idea of giving him my heart, only for him to take it with him back to America, to leave me broken and unable to love again, missing a piece of myself here in France...”*  
Anna's face softens and Gabriel's jaw shuts slowly from where he'd been gaping at Castiel.  
*”Castiel... Cas... If he leaves you after telling you he loves you... Then...”*  
*”Then he never really loved you... Did he?”*  
Anna reaches over and pats Castiel's knee, and he smiles at looks up at his older sister, soft smile on his face.  
*”I guess so...”*  
*”... Then stop it.”*  
*”What?”*  
*”Stop waiting. Love him. Throw yourself into it. Give yourself over, love him with everything you have... It's amazing to feel love and be loved and let your whole self be one with it-”*  
*”You've loved Anna?”*  
*”I... Well...”*  
She blushes and Castiel gapes.  
*”NO!? You've fallen haven't you?”*  
She giggles and then the conversation thankfully turns to a beautiful man named Jacques that Anna had fallen for, a butcher who worked only a few miles away that Castiel had actually talked to a few times. Gabriel breaks in, swearing that Jacques is gay, and so the bantering continues, the trio talking and laughing until the neighbors complain and they finally quiet down around 2am.

***

For a moment Dean is honest to god shocked, hearing a male voice on the other end of the line that isn’t Castiel. Realizing it’s Gabriel calms him down a little but not enough… Before he can tell him to shut up and give back the phone to Cas, the line is disconnected and all Dean hears is the monotone signal. He slides his phone back into his pocket after a while, staring outside the balcony door at the ocean. That’s totally not what he’d been planning to do tonight… He’d wanted to hear Cas’ voice, talk to him, maybe get him a bit in the mood, make him touch himself and listen to his moans… He understood that Castiel had family and friends and he was glad he had them… But he couldn’t deny that he was indeed very jealous of everyone Castiel shared his time with, everyone he let hear the enchanting laughter of his. Dean shuts his laptop audibly, carrying it across the room and throwing it in the armchair by the window, before sinking down on his bed. He doesn’t sleep well this night, the young man on his mind more than ever, and Dean’s so pissed he can’t even get in the mood for a little fun on his own. He gets up early the next day, a Saturday, and once he’s fully clothed he calls Sam that he would be over. Sam doesn’t argue and when Dean arrives an hour later on their doorstep, him and Jess do their best to welcome him as warmly as possible. They spend the day outside, Sam quickly organizing a barbeque and inviting some neighbors over. Dean doesn’t mind, the more people, the more chances to forget his longing for Cas. Jess introduces him to their next-door neighbor, Alain, and Dean thinks he would’ve totally hit that, if it wasn’t for Cas. The young man is brawny but slender, his dark hair looks soft and the smile on his face tells Dean that he wouldn’t mind if Dean took the tour at his place. He flirts a little but doesn’t get too far with it, as Alain doesn’t speak much English and unlike Castiel, he’s not really worth the patience. Dean excuses himself at 10pm, going back inside and lying down in the guest room, listening to the slowly subsiding sound of voices and laughter outside. He misses Cas like hell but he’s resisting the urge to call him or even text him. Maybe they both needed some time apart, maybe everything was progressing too fast… Dean fell asleep with the fear of losing Cas because he couldn’t even bear to be without him longer than a day…

***

Castiel is too busy on Saturday to do much more than breath during the moments when he's not rushing around fulfilling an emergency order of a wedding cake at the last minute for a wedding later that evening. He manages to finish on time, with the help of Anna and Gabriel, and they also manage to keep the café open, a miracle in and of itself while they're making the giant five layer cake with ornately hand crafted sugar flowers and butterflies. The cake is finished with only 20 minutes to spare, and is carted off to the wedding on the other side of town by Gabriel. Anna and Castiel finish up at the café, cleaning up everything and starting on the next day's preparations for yet another wedding, things mixed and put away in large metal bowls in the refrigerator. Dough was left to rise, and Castiel put together the dinner a little late, but none of the regulars complained.  
Around midnight he is finally done with work for the day, and Castiel manages to drag himself upstairs, shower, and then collapse into bed. His eyes are barely open, but in the last few seconds before sleep claims him, he fumbles a text to Dean, sending it and then drifting off to sleep, not to awake again until morning.  
The text read simply, in English, 'I miss you'.

***

Dean doesn’t read the text until late Sunday afternoon. He didn’t sleep well and had a hard time getting up and showering. So when he’s done and sinking down in the armchair both physically and emotionally exhausted, the blinking signal on his phone is what keeps him awake. He smiles when he reads the three words, happy that he’s not the only one feeling that way. Still, Dean feels weird about calling Cas, doesn’t want to be the one running after him like a lovesick teenager, so all he does is typing a text message on his own.  
‘Miss you too’ and then after a moment of thinking he adds ‘How was your day?’  
It’s hard returning to such normal things, when all he wants to do is call him, see him, touch him. But Dean knows that he has to share Cas, at least with his family and that if it makes Cas happy, Dean would do anything, would abandon everything for him

***

The response comes quickly, as Castiel had to wake up early to start on the next wedding cake and bake the day's bread.  
'Busy last day. Busy today. Wedding cakes. Your days?'  
He tucks the phone back into his back pocket, having both the ringer and the vibrate on so he wouldn't miss he next message. It felt strange to feel so strongly about someone... Castiel had never felt like this, not about someone romantically anyway. His chest hurt when Dean wasn't around and just thinking about him leaving in... Merde... Only a little over a month and half now... It made Castiel want to cry and his throat tightened up so he couldn't breathe quite right. He fought it all, knowing that they were all signs that he was falling in love with the other man, but remembered what Anna had told him two nights ago.  
'Stop waiting. Love him. Throw yourself into it. Give yourself over, love him with everything you have... It's amazing to feel love and be loved and let your whole self be one with it-'  
He stills in the kitchen, standing there thinking about Dean and their situation as Anna and Gabriel buzz around him until Gabe finally smacks him upside his head gently, to wake him out of his trance.  
*”CASTIEL!”*  
*”W-what? Oh- sorry!”*  
He rushes back into finishing off the piped border on this cake, a simple chic black and white with a strawberry glazed topping. The cake is off to the wedding with plenty of time to spare, and Castiel gets a moment to breath in the early evening, so he takes a break and walks up to the roof to check on his plants.

***

Dean smiles at that, both amused by Castiel’s spelling and bitterly at the thought that Castiel might have been enjoying those days without Dean’s presence, completely in his element and not getting distracted by that rude foreigner who kept following him around, telling him he loved him… Dean shakes his head at that… Cas had written that he missed him, even before Dean had… He had to forget about his worries and enjoy the remaining time they had together. After a while Dean decides to cast his caution to the wind and dials Castiel’s number the second time in the last two days.  
“If you let Gabriel take over the phone again, I swear I’m gonna punch him”, he starts their conversation and gets a surprised chuckle from the man on the other line.  
“Hey”, he says then, a lot quieter, softer “Listen, I… I don’t wanna get on your nerves or anything but… I’d really like to spend more time with you… If that’s okay... Cause, you know-… I got some work done these past two days but now I really need some time off...”

***

Castiel is quiet for a moment after Dean speaks, hearing the nervousness in his voice. He doesn't want to jump in and scare him, but had been thinking about that exact thing all day, and had actually talked with Anna about it earlier.  
“... Dean...Would you like to go to Paris?...With me?”  
He clears his throat and speaks quickly, is own nervousness coming through, but overall just the sense that Castiel was really eager to do this, and wanted to spend time with Dean just as much as Dean wanted to spend time with him.  
“I have never taken a holiday... Anna et Gabriel say they will take the café for a week, if we go to Paris... I would very much love that. Eh... perhaps... mm... Your brother, Sam et his lady? They come as well?”  
Castiel fidgets with the edge of his apron, holding the phone to his ear with one hand, biting his lip. He had never done this, gone on long trips with anyone but family. And he had never taken a holiday away from the café since his parents died. He had never had a reason to, but Castiel figured that Dean was a better reason than anything he'd come across to leave behind his responsibilities- at least for a little while.

***

Dean is a little speechless after Castiel’s sudden and unexpected suggestion. But then the feeling of surprise and confusion subsides it makes way for a blissful warmth.  
“Sure… I mean, yes, yes I’d like that!”, he quickly says - maybe a bit too quick and clears his throat “When do you wanna go? I’ll ask Sam and Jess, they’d… Well, I think they’d be happy to meet you.”  
He smiles to himself, letting the realization sink in… Castiel just asked him out… Better than that, he asked him on a week-long date, a week in Paris, city of love, with Castiel. He suddenly felt lightheaded and so goddamn happy, it almost scared him…

***

Castiel blushes and then smiles at how happy Dean sounded, and the way his voice got so light even over the phone, tilting up at the end of his sentences, it made Castiel's heart clench in his chest to know that he was the cause of that happiness.  
“Anna... She has wanted me to take a holiday... For years... Please, ask Sam et Jess... When they will go? I can go any day I chose.”  
He smiles to himself and sits down on one of the benches on the roof, cross legged, and leans forward on his knees. A soft laugh escapes him and he covers his mouth, but when Dean laughs too and asks 'What?', Castiel shakes his head and sighs gently.  
“It is... new. This feeling. This happiness...”  
He smiles again and is quiet, just listening to Dean breath on the other end of the line, before speaking again.  
“I am happy to have met you Dean...”

***

Happiness… Yeah… That’s the word that describes Dean’s own feelings pretty accurately in this moment. Castiel’s words are quiet and soft and send shivers down his spine and even though it’s not the much longed for ’I love you too’ but it’s pretty close… And it’s enough, at least for now. Dean smiles and nods, before realizing that Cas can’t see him and says “I know, I’m quite a catch, huh?”  
It takes Castiel a moment to understand what Dean had said but then he joins in the laughter and Dean feels even better than before. They stay on the phone for a little while longer, Cas telling Dean about the wedding cakes he’d created and describing how they tasted, and Dean scolding him for making his mouth water with no compensation at all. Around 11pm Dean gets up out of the chair, closing the balcony door and lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  
“I’m gonna go to bed now”, he says slowly “Wish you were here to help me... You know, undressing… It’s a bit hard with one hand…”  
He lets his free hand travel down his body, over his neck, his chest and stomach, resting at his hip.

***

Castiel had made his way down into his own bedroom, allowing Anna to close up for the night, letting her know that he would be going to Paris relatively soon, to which she had jumped around the kitchen and squealed like a child. Castiel lays down on his bed, one arm behind his head, listening to Dean speak.

“You are-…”

He blushes then, realizing what Dean means, and feels a rush of warmth race south to pool low in his stomach.

“… Ah…Y-yes… I wish I were there with you…”

He shivers slightly and bites his lower lip before clearing his throat gently and speaking again, voice slightly huskier than moments before.

“Dean… Tell me… What are you wearing now?”

***

Dean smiles at that, licking his lips and letting his hand slip underneath his shirt, brushing over the warm skin of his stomach.  
“Not much”, he then says, looking down on himself and reciting the clothes on his body for Castiel with a low, seductive voice “Wouldn’t take you long taking them off for me...”  
He pushes the hem of the shirt up even further, sliding his hand over every inch of naked skin he can reach and letting his voice drop another notch.  
“Would you like to? Undress me, slowly get me naked? Would you like to touch me, Cas?”

***

“…Yes…”

His voice is whispered, breath heavy on the other end of the line from Dean. Castiel slides his own hand down and unbuttons his pants slowly, speaking to Dean as he does.

“Dean… I wish I was there… I miss touching you… Kissing you…”

He stops speaking as he unzips his pants, wonders if Dean could hear the zipper, loud in his quiet apartment. He licks his lips and swallows around the thickness in his throat, salivating at the mental picture of Dean doing exactly what he’s doing. His hand pushes his shirt up over his stomach, deft fingers sliding back down the smooth planes to dip under the edge of his boxers, but no further.

“Can… Dean- touch yourself… Tell me… What you’re doing…”

***

Dean does hear the zipper and it’s the most amazing thing he’s heard in two days, including the chirping of birds and the rushing of the ocean.  
“I’m touching myself, Cas… My hand’s on my chest… When I close my eyes I can pretend it’s you.”  
He pauses for a moment, circling his nipples and rubbing them in between his thumb and index finger. A quiet moan escapes his slightly opened lips, as he continues to talk, voice now just as husky as Castiel’s.  
“You’re brushing your fingers over my nipples-... God, I get hard from just you leaning over me… You’re so fucking beautiful…”

***

Castiel shivers, feeling his entire body flush with heat at Dean’s voice, the things he’s saying. Cas has never done this, so many firsts and every one of them with Dean, it was like Dean was ushering him into a new place, one filled with excitement and lust and so many rich emotions.  
He licks his lips and speaks again.  
“I’m… Dean… I... want to touch you, brush my fingers down your stomach…”  
He shuts his eyes and follows his own directions, sliding his fingers down his stomach from where they’d wandered to push his shirt up even more.  
“Take off your pants… Want to see you… All of you…”

***

Castiel’s last words draw a moan out of Dean and he breathes out a “Yes”, before dropping one hand to his fly, fumbling with the button and zipper, and finally pulling his pants down halfway.  
“Cas, your hands… They’re on my hips now… Want you to go down… Want you to pull out my cock... So hard for you, Cas…”  
He’s writhing on the bed, his hand so close to the center of his body but he has to wait, has to make Cas let him touch himself…

***

“Mon Dieu... Dean...”  
He moans softly and bites his lower lip viciously, hissing out a breath as he continues touching himself, describing what he's doing, knowing Dean is doing the same thing on the other end of the line.  
“Touche toi... T...touch yourself... Your hand... Around your... cock...”  
He blushes, suddenly beyond glad Gabriel had filled his head with all the dirty English words he knew. They were indeed coming in handy, even though Castiel would never EVER admit that to Gabriel, even under torture.  
“My fingers slide over your l-length...-Dean... You're so hard, aren't you?”  
He bites his lip again, the soft whimper that escapes barely audible over the phone as his own hand wraps around his cock, fingers brushing under the head to tease the sensitive glans there, sharp intake of breath as he thumbs over the slit.

***

Finally, finally Dean complies, wrapping his free hand around his cock and sliding his fingers over it, from base to tip and back. Cas keeps talking quietly, voice ragged with deep moans, probably touching himself just as Dean is.  
“Missed this… Missed you touching me, Cas”, he breathes out, his eyes squeezed shut as he imagines it’s Castiel who’s gripping his dick harder, stroking, pumping.  
“I’m so hard, can you feel it Cas?”

***

“Y-yes Dean... I can...”  
He strokes himself, eyes shut tight, imagining Dean there, above him, Castiel's hand wrapped around Dean's thick length- the faces Dean makes in his mind causing Castiel to moan softly.  
“Putain de m... So beautiful Dean... Your lips... Want to feel them, around me...”  
His breath hitches at the idea, and he licks his lips, voice raspy.  
“Want to suck you while you... Ah... Dean...”  
His hand speeds up slightly, gripping tight as it moves from the head to the base, over and over.  
“When... Will you be back...?... Need to see you...”

***

The image of Castiel stretched out beneath him, his lips wrapped around the other man’s cock, almost drives him mad, when he’s already so close to the edge. His hand’s movement slows down, stops for a moment as he tries to catch his breath.  
“I’m not gone, baby… I’ll come whenever you want me to...”  
He knows how ambiguous this came out but doesn’t really mind, not right now. He only needs another few strokes, the image of Castiel writhing beneath him clear in his head, until he comes, hot and hard, harder than he’d ever had from pleasing himself.  
“Cas… Cas, you’re amazing.”, he gasps in the mouthpiece of his phone, basically purring and whispers a string of other words, filthy, seductive phrases until he can hear Castiel’s breath speeding up, as well.

***

Castiel whimpers, his body arching up off the bed towards his hand, or Dean's hand, as it is in his mind.  
“Dean... I'm... I'm so close...”  
He shuts his eyes tight and grits his teeth, knowing that it's completely wrong of his to ask this of Dean, but wanting to hear it again, needing it like air now that he'd heard it once.  
“...Tell me...Tell me again that you love me...”  
Castiel's hand works over his cock in swift strokes, brushing over the crown on every second or third stroke, other hand gripping his cell phone tight, his breath coming in heated pants, puffs of air that brush over the phone and cause bits of static on every exhale.

***

Dean sucks in a breath and stays quiet for a moment, listening to Castiel breathing, moaning into the phone. Then he straightens himself, sitting cross-legged on the bed, his lips pressed against the mouthpiece as he does as Castiel asked him to.  
“I love you, Cas”, he says and then once more “I loved you from the moment I saw you. I wanted to fuck that guy, Jérôme, but I couldn’t... Not after I’d seen you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I-… I can’t stop thinking about you. Every minute I can’t see you, touch you, hurts like hell... I-...”  
He falls silent for a moment, not having expected the flood of words, the blatant confessions. When he speaks again, his voice is even deeper, rough and hoarse and genuine.  
“You’re the first, Cas... I’ve never had this-... I’ve never loved someone other than my family before…”

***

Castiel's breath catches in his throat and the orgasm that had been building like a crescendo crashes full force over his body, wrecking his control and he cries out, Dean's name loud and broken into the night. Cas comes down from it seeing spots in his vision, like you do when you stare at the sun, his head pounding and heart going crazy in his chest, entire body still rolling through the last aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm he'd ever felt- all from Dean's confession that he loved him.  
His heart clenches in his chest and without warning tears spring to his eyes, hot and burning, and his voice breaks when he speaks again.  
“Dean-... I ha... have to see you... Please? Can you come to me?”  
He's terrified, chest so tight it feels like he can't breath , his entire body reacting to the realization that just hit him like a wrecking ball.  
“Please Dean... I have to see you now...”

***

Dean is still rambling on, getting those feelings off his chest, even though it somehow feels less important, less significant with Castiel not here, with Dean staring out of the window opposite to the bed he’s still sitting on. When Castiel comes, Dean can almost feel his pleasure, can almost taste his sweat and his sweet flavor and just as he’s about to slide his hand down to start this thing all over again, Cas speaks again. Dean is up in a matter of seconds, his free hand fumbling with his pants as he stutters “Give me 20 minutes” and then shuts the phone. He leaves the hotel room less than a minute later, reasonably dressed in jeans and a white button up, taking the stairs cause waiting for the elevator unnerves him. He jumps into a taxi in front of the building and can’t bring himself to sit still during the whole drive to the suburbs of Le Havre. He can see light in the top window and quickly pays the driver, getting out of the cab and taking the three stairs up to the entrance door. His hand is shaking, when he rings the doorbell, anxiously waiting for Castiel to open the door…

***

The door opens before the doorbell even finishes chiming, Castiel about ripping it off it's hinges as he swings it open. He stands there for a moment, just staring at Dean, breathing a little heavy, his face red and eyes watery. Castiel swallows whatever was in his throat, most likely fears and doubts, and speaks, his voice deep and quiet, but strong in his conviction.  
“... I love you.”  
Castiel practically launches himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders with a broken sob, the depth and strength of the things he was letting himself feel for the first time in his life rocking him so hard, Castiel felt like he had to hang onto something or he'd be torn asunder.  
“Je t'aime, je t'aime. Je t'aime!” He whispers against Dean's neck, unable to stop himself, and no longer wanting to. Castiel couldn't hold it back anymore, now that he realized it- at the height of passion the only thing he wanted to hear was Dean say he loved him, and that was enough for Castiel to know that he needed Dean in his life, wanted him more than anything, couldn't stand the idea of losing him.  
Love crept up on Castiel like a jungle cat, pounced at the worst possible opportunity, tangling him with a man that would leave in less than months, out of his life possibly forever.  
But Castiel wasn't going to let that stop him anymore- he realized in a blur as he came to Dean's words in his ear that he would rather die of a broken heart then never let Dean know what he means to him.

***

Dean stumbles backwards, dragging Cas with him, as he trips over one of the stairs, regaining his balance and holding on to the slightly smaller man in his arms. For a few breathless moments it’s all surprise and confusion and shock. But then the realization sets in, Castiel’s words finally soaking in and Dean wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against his own body and kissing him. The moment their lips touch is electrifying, paralyzing, aphrodisiacal. It’s so surreal, so new to Dean that he still kind of needs to wrap his mind around the fact that, yes, he is in love and even if Castiel hadn’t told him in words from the very beginning, he loves him back just as deeply as Dean had hoped, had prayed… The kiss seems to last hours, the two of them holding each other, lips pressing together and tongues dancing, until Dean has to draw back in order to breathe. The dim light of a streetlamp casts strange shadows on Castiel’s face and Dean leans down to kiss the other man’s eyelids, his nose, his brow. Then he leans his forehead against Cas’, taking a deep breath before opening his eyes again.  
“You love me”, he says, still quite incredulous.

***

“Yes.”  
Just one word, but Castiel pours every feeling he'd experienced over the past few weeks into it, his smile wide and bright, the same kind of fearless smile he shares with Anna and Gabriel like it's nothing. The same smile he hadn't shared with anyone else in his whole life, always guarded around people who weren't his family, weren't that close to him. Dean felt like family, and Castiel loved him so deeply he might as well be. Realizing that he couldn't keep it inside another minute, Castiel had to see Dean then, right then, which is why Dean was here at midnight, and they were standing on the doorstep to his cafe, wrapped up in one another.  
“I love you... Je t'aime.”  
He leans up and kisses Dean again, soft, bare brush of his lips against Dean's, a sigh coming out as he does. Being able to say it and mean it and not have the worry of the consequences weighing down on him was a relief. Castiel felt like he was floating on air after being weighed down with anchors he hadn't even known he was carrying around, ever since he'd started feeling this way for Dean, possibly from the moment he met him.  
If there was such a thing as love at first sight...then that's what happened to Castiel and Dean.  
“... Le coup de foudre... Eh... Lightning-... Love at first seeing? That is... you and I.”

***

Dean chuckles at Castiel’s words, loving the clumsy Frenglish more than ever. His hands cup Castiel’s face, thumb brushing over his cheeks, his lips.  
“Yeah, it was love at first sight”, he says, smiling fondly and leaning down to kiss him again, just a short press of lips to lend more weight to his words.  
For a while all he does is look at Castiel, their eyes on each other, hands touching their bodies in a desperate need to be as close as possible. God, Dean doesn’t even know what to do now, what to say… Castiel’s confession changed everything, made Dean feel as light as a feather, floating on this cloud of pure bliss. But there still were doubts nagging on him, the worry about what would happen if Dean would return to America. He’d weighed the pros and cons almost a hundred times and to be honest there was not much keeping him in the US. Instead everything he cared for was here… In France.  
But he doesn’t want to think about it now, not when Castiel is in his arms, holding him like he’s not planning on ever letting him go and Dean feeling perfectly fine with this prospect.  
“Let’s go inside.”, he finally whispers, mouth close to Castiel’s ear, as he’s kissing a path down the side of his neck.

***

Castiel shivers and nods, leading the way back inside and up the stairs, blushing and laughing when Dean smacks his ass on the way up the stairs, scolding him for acting like a child. Castiel turns around and wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders once they're in his bedroom again, somehow everything seeming so much brighter, fuller, even though it's midnight and nothing has changed from a few days ago other than Castiel's confession. It made all the difference to him though, and the kisses he bestows upon Dean's lips are free and clear of worry for the moment, focusing only on the feelings raging through him as a golden fire, fueled by the knowledge that he was truly and devastatingly in love with the man in front of him.  
“Dean...”, Castiel breathes, and sighs, fingers tracing the nape of Dean's neck, massaging the tiny soft hairs there, fingernails brushing over the skin to scratch delightfully.  
“... When shall we go to Paris?”

***

“Haven’t had the chance to ask Sam and Jess yet.”, Dean says truthfully and chuckles, shaking his head “I could call them now but I guess they wouldn’t be too happy if I woke them in the middle of the night.” He leans forward, nudging Castiel’s shoulder and softly tickling the side of his waist.  
“And I don’t wanna talk to anyone right now.”, he then admits, his eyes dark and clouded with seriousness and lust and deep and utter love.  
He pushes Castiel backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and Castiel tumbles down, pulling Dean with him, on top of him. They make love that night, again and again until the sun’s rising in the east, coloring Castiel’s sleeping form in soft yellow and gold and the beauty takes Dean’s breath away. They have breakfast in bed, Dean telling Cas to stay where he is, while he sneaks down in the kitchen to make pancakes and scrambled eggs. They spend almost all day in bed, snuggled up against each other and kissing and touching, fucking, slow and gentle, then fast and passionate. Dean calls Sam in the evening and as surprised as he is that Dean wants to go to Paris again, he agrees on coming with them. They agree on the next week, giving them one week time to arrange the short holiday at their workplaces.


	6. Chapter 6

Anna and Gabriel take over the café for the day, allowing Castiel and Dean as much time as they want to relax and just be with one another. They also both agree to taking over for a week while Castiel is gone, Anna happily agreeing while Gabriel takes a bit more cajoling, and promises of freshly made candies once Castiel gets back from Paris. Castiel lays wrapped up in Dean’s arms, a bed sheet thrown haphazard over his waist. In his hands he holds a notebook with recipes for the week they will be gone, his chicken scratch writing hard to read, but legible if you hold the paper just so.  
Castiel goes over the list with Dean, laughing whenever the man groans from food envy, vibrations from the chest he’s leaning against shivering through his head.  
“Dean, I will make you all the pastries you want when we get back from Paris... Jusque-là… I must prepare the café… Much to buy…”  
He snuggles back against Dean’s chest though, and blushes when his own stomach rumbles.  
“Mm... Perhaps we should get dinner? I wish to take you to a restaurant pas loin d'ici…”  
The sun had set a little while ago, but Castiel knew they had enough time to shower and dress and make their way down the beach to another café, this one specializing in Brazilian cuisine, a different taste than the things Castiel made day to day.

***

Dean stretched his arms, before straightening up a little against the headboard, looking down on Castiel.  
“You wanna go on a date?”, he asks, playfully skeptic, raising one eyebrow “And here I thought we were past courting each other.”  
He laughs softly and then quickly shakes his head, as he sees Castiel’s questioning look.  
“I’m just messing with you, don’t even listen to me.”, he says, taking the notebook from Castiel’s hands and pulling him up into a slow, open mouthed kiss. He’ll never get enough of this, of Castiel becoming pliant and soft in his arms, his mouth opening to Dean’s, letting him in and his throat making those adorable sounds, whenever their tongues touch. He lets go of Castiel sooner than he likes and they get up reluctantly, getting dressed. Dean is ready first and leans against the stair-rail, watching Castiel trying to fix a dark blue tie but failing time and time again.  
“Let me.”, Dean says quietly, stepping closer and into Castiel’s personal space, pushing his hands away gently and loosening the knot, only to restart tie his tie, adding a “There you go.” once he’s done and smiling up into Castiel’s blushing face.

***

Castiel licks his lips and flushes even brighter at Dean’s pleased smile- it was fascinating that he could not only let someone else do things for him like this, but crave that attention. Dean’s hands moving the tie around his neck felt good, the warmth from them burning through the shirt fabric and into his skin, sending shivers up his spine.  
“Merci… Ah, we shall go?”  
He tilts his head to the side and grabs Dean’s hand in his, walking down the stairs and out of the café with a wave goodbye to Anna and Gabriel- Anna smiling and Gabriel grumbling, but both waving goodbye as well, genuinely happy for Cas.  
The walk to the other café is short enough, but the looks the couple draws from people passing by are enough to make Castiel slightly uncomfortable, and about halfway to the restaurant he lets go of Dean’s hand, the flush on his cheeks from a sneering man walking by making his stomach uneasy.

***

When Cas’ hand slips out of his, Dean’s confused and scared for a moment, uncertain if he’d given him any reason to do so. Then he too notices the man passing them, shaking his head and grumbling to himself and anger boils up inside him. If it weren’t for the nice evening they had planned, Dean would’ve definitely done something about it, punching the guy seemed like a good idea. But he didn’t. He just followed Castiel quietly to the restaurant, stopping him in front of the entrance, pulling him into a dark corner right next to the door.  
“You sure you wanna do this here?”, he asks quietly, brushing his hand only softly, briefly over Castiel’s. They could get dinner somewhere else, maybe in town, where nobody knew them and where Castiel could actually relax.

***

“…Yes Dean.”  
Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently before looks up into Dean’s eyes.  
“I want to be with you… I… No one else means anything, et... I will try to remember this.”  
He smiles and nods gently, then leads them up and into the restaurant, greeting the owner by name and asking for a table for two. The owner was a full figured middle aged woman who smiled like she had a secret, with large hips and upper arms, she was strong and statuesque. She had caramel colored skin and a long nose, her hair pulled up into a long ponytail, tight spiral curls that were the envy of every woman she met.  
“Bonsoir! Castiel, qui est votre ami? Il est très beau!”  
Castiel blushes and nods.  
“This is Dean, he speaks English, et un peu de français...”  
“Ah…’el-low Dean, ‘ow are you to-night? My name is Yara.”  
She seemed genuinely pleased to see Castiel, and even more so pleased that he had brought a friend. There was a mischievous sparkle in her smile as she signaled a server to bring salgadinhos for the couple, as well as some waters. The young boy walks out with two waters are a plate full of salgadinhos, appetizers, for Castiel and Dean. Yara explains that they are empadinhas, which are Brazilian shrimp pies made from scratch with dough, shrimp, tomatoes, bell peppers, Tabasco sauce, garlic, olive oil, cumin, parsley and “…a few other spices…”, Yara says, and winks at the pair.  
“Dinner will be only a few minutes… Enjoy!”  
Yara waves as she exits gracefully back into the kitchen, leaving Castiel to explain that eating at Yara’s was like a family meal- she made one meal for each time of the day, and you ate whatever she served you, or you didn’t eat at all. He laughs as he says this, obviously fond of her philosophy.

***

“She’s quite a character, isn’t she”, Dean says and chuckles, as soon as Yara had left their table.  
He leans back in the comfortable chair, letting his gaze wander over the interior of the restaurant. The chairs and tables are not all the same, different sizes and colors thrown together and decorated with colorful flowers and tablecloths, giving the place a very cozy atmosphere. Dean immediately felt at ease and turned back to look at Castiel, smiling at him. Like Yara had promised it doesn’t take too long until the first course is served and Dean, although not really the type for all too exotic food, tries everything and is more than surprised when he actually likes what’s getting served. He raises his napkin to his lips, before searching Yara’s gaze as she’s scurrying around behind Castiel and giving her two thumbs up, which makes her smile smugly over her big, warm-hearted face.  
“I don’t think I’m ready for the main course”, he says, looking back at Cas and rubbing his belly “I think I’m already stuffed…”

***

Castiel smiles and nods, happy that Dean likes Yara, but he wasn't worried. Everyone liked Yara. It was nearly impossible not to.  
“Would you like to take it with us?”  
He tilts his head to one side and reaches out to hold Dean's hand, blushing gently at the warmth that instantly flows through him at the contact. Dean's affect on Castiel was profound, something that reached inside him with just a touch or a look and stroked all of the pleasure centers in his body, made him yearn for more contact, more attention. Dean, whose presence in his life made everything seem brighter, even where Castiel hadn't thought anything was wrong before, now the idea of Dean not being right next to him, laughing and sharing their lives together- it just seemed wrong. Cas felt his heart clench when somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice reminded him '1.5 months', but he quickly silenced it, and turned his full attention back on Dean.  
“Shall we go to your hotel?”  
Cas smiles, and there's nothing suggestive in it, no quirked eyebrows or sleaze in the smile, simply an innocent question. Castiel wanted nothing more than to spend as much time with Dean as possible, and he didn't intend on sleeping alone again while Dean was here... If he could help it.

***

Dean raises a brow and puts down the napkin, pursing his lips.  
“You wanna go already?”, he asks, slightly unsure. He really didn’t want to go if Castiel didn’t, didn’t want to make him give up a nice, quiet evening with friends, when he only gave it up for him. “We don’t have to, if you don’t wanna…”  
But Castiel just keeps smiling and shakes his head, as he swiftly stands up, motioning to Yara that they’re leaving.  
“Don’t we have to... Pay first?”, Dean asks, when Castiel pulls him out on the front porch and into a quick kiss that leaves him breathless for a moment. Cas mutters something about ‘being at Yara’s almost once a week’ and ‘paying for dinner the next time’ and Dean decides not to ask any further. He takes Cas hand and leads the way down the stairs. They don’t take a cab tonight, walking slowly down the road, Dean’s hand closed gently around Cas’ in the dark of the night. They don’t talk much but Dean’s okay like this. For the first time in… years, he’s actually truly happy with just.. being with someone. The thought alone makes him chuckle slightly and he squeezes Cas hand, smiling at him affectionately.  
“Thanks for taking me to Yara’s”, he says quietly, when they arrive at the hotel and step into the elevator “We should-... go out more often.”

***

Castiel finds that walking hand in hand with Dean is a new experience, and one that he absolutely adores- the warm fingers wrapping around his, they were gentle and strong, and made him feel safe. The cover of night makes any passerby less likely to see them, and thus less likely to send sneers or disgusted looks their way, which Castiel is thankful for. He is in no way embarrassed by Dean, or by loving Dean, but he has a hard time ignoring cruel looks or remarks from anyone. They get to him, no matter how hard he tries to not let them.  
In the elevator Cas wraps his arms around Dean's waist and buries his nose in the crook of Dean's neck, inhaling deeply, taking in the warm smell that he was beginning to think was his new favorite, topping even the smell of freshly baked bread, and cinnamon tarts.  
“Mmm... Oui, Dean, we should.”  
Cas was a little sleepy after the large meal, and they had a to go box that was filled with food for yet another meal in a bag that hung at Cas' side, loosely held in one hand.  
“... We will spend every day out in Paris... I will show you all of the places que j'aime...”

***

Dean smiles and tilts his head forward, leaning his forehead against Cas’ shoulder. The ‘ding’ of the elevator stays ignored for a few seconds until they both pull back reluctantly and make their way out in the hallway and over to the door of Dean’s room. It’s the first time they enter an empty room together and don’t start ripping off their clothes. Well, technically they do undress each other but it’s slow and lazy and as soon as they’re stripped down to shorts, Dean switches off the light and climbs into the large bed, pulling Cas with him, wrapping arms and legs around his warm body. They don’t sleep with each other that night but Dean finds that falling asleep in Castiel’s arms is actually a thing he could get used to… They order breakfast to the room the next morning and Dean pulls out all the stops, letting Cas stay in bed while Dean serves breakfast and letting him eat whipped cream from his index finger. Later Cas leaves, a little reluctant but dutiful as ever. The following week passes rather quickly and Dean finds himself excited for the coming Monday and their trip to the capital city of France. They have a picnic on the beach Sunday night and spend hours with stargazing and kissing. Dean never would’ve thought he’d ever enjoy things like this, ridiculously romantic past-times like lying on the beach and just being with someone. But he realizes that it doesn’t matter what others would think or say about him, as long as he was happy. And he was happy. So happy actually, that it almost scared him…

***

They pack for Paris that night after stargazing, making sure to include a few bottles of lube, Dean tosses them in with a wink at Cas, which makes Cas blush furiously and turn around to bury himself in clean laundry to fold.  
They spend the night at the café so that Castiel can go over the list of things for Anna and Gabriel for the week in the morning. It only takes Dean a half an hour to drag Cas out of the café and into a cab to meet Sam and Jess at the train station, which Dean feels is an accomplishment considering how much he knows Castiel loves the café.  
The train ride is perfect, Jess and Cas hitting it off immediately, talking about their favorite writers, and when Cas says something about D. Smith, Sam almost chokes on the sandwich he was eating that Castiel had packed for them all. Sam shoots Dean a look, but Dean only shakes his head, trying to signal that he hadn't told Cas yet, and Dean and Jess both get it, leaving Cas to blink curiously at the looks the other three had just shared. Jess stops the silence from becoming awkward by speaking up.  
“So where should we go Castiel?”  
“The Louvre is a personal fav-or-ite of mine... The tower is also beautiful, but far too pop-u-lar most days... Perhaps we should visit in the middle of the week?”  
They spend the rest of the train ride chatting and talking, half in English and half in French, Sam and Castiel bonding as well, over gardening and cooking, which of course makes Dean smirk, and Sam throw him a bitch face that makes Cas giggle.  
The foursome was a tight knit group by the time they arrived in Paris and settled at their lovely hotel in the heart of Paris, the Hotel du Louvre.

***

Dean is grateful for the loyalty of his brother and his fiancée. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t told Cas about his writing-alias but ever since he saw his book on Castiel’s bookshelf, he feels a bit uncomfortable about the subject. He intends to tell him, sometime… But not now. This trip isn’t about him, it’s about them. About Dean spending as much time as possible with the man he fell in love with. Their rooms are next to each other on the same floor and even though they’d shared a bed for quite some time now, it still feels weird checking in as a couple. Weird, but not bad in any way. He notices Cas’ stiffness, the way he kept shifting uncomfortably while Dean signed the papers at the reception and got handed the keys but he didn’t really worry. Cas was a bit more old-fashioned and shy about this kind of relationship and all he needed - so Dean figured - was a bit more time to adjust. They unpack a few things but soon leave the room to meet Sam and Jess in the lobby. They had decided not to do any sightseeing today, as it was already late afternoon, so they left the hotel, each couple hand in hand, and sauntered down the Champs-Elysées. Soon the sky darkened and the Eiffel tower started sparkling in golden light. Dean couldn’t suppress an astonished sound, which made the other three giggle. An hour later they sat down in a busy restaurant, sitting outside, directly next to the Champs-Elysées. Dean pushes the menu away and winks at Cas.  
“You decide-… You’re the professional, right?”

***

Castiel orders for everyone, judging from the little he knew about Jess and Sam, and everything he knew about Dean, he managed to order perfectly. There were slices of tomato and mozzarella with olive oil and rosemary, sliced baguette with garlic butter, and a fresh spring salad with cranberries and sliced almonds. The main courses were raclette for Sam, tartiflette for Dean, boudin blanc with zucchini bake for Castiel, and a salad with grilled pears and chicken, goat cheese and drizzled with a vinaigrette.  
The wine was delicious, fruity and light for Cas and Jess and a heavier red for their respective Winchesters.  
Castiel told the story of the first time he came to Paris with his sister and their parents and grandparents, and how impatient he was to see the top of the Eiffel Tower. The trip had been one of the last things he and his family had done before his Grandparents had died, and the conversation dies for a bit when he mentions that, until Dean takes Castiel's hand and kisses the back of it, and Cas blushes and Jess giggles and Sam pretends to retch.  
The laughter that erupts from their table makes the rest of the patrons of the restaurant look over with wide eyes, but Castiel doesn't care, not with Dean grinning at him like that.

***

They avoid the subject ‘family’ for the next few hours and talk about easier things, about Sam’s job as an architect and Jess’ work for the local children’s home, where she spent most of the time volunteering. When it comes to Dean’s job, though, he’s still a bit awkward, telling only as much as he has to about his fairly popular books and when Cas frowns and tries to remember if he’d ever heard Dean’s name before, Sam and Jess shoot him an uncomprehending look. Dean shrugs and orders more wine, hoping to take Cas’ mind off this subject… Around midnight the restaurant closes and Dean, Cas, Sam and Jess are the last guests to leave. Once they’re inside the cab, Dean’s head falls to the side and on Cas’ shoulder and he only wakes when they’re back at the hotel. He lets Cas tuck him in and snuggles against him, once he joins him in bed, breathing in the scent of rain and strawberries and cookie dough…  
Jess and Cas had planned their route for the following day precisely and Dean and Sam had no alternative but to follow their new tour guides. Letting themselves falling behind a bit, Sam finally turns to Dean, frowning.  
“Why don’t you just tell him?”, he asks and Dean knows immediately what this is about.  
“I... I don’t know, okay?”, he says truthfully “It’s just… He’s got one of my books and… I saw it and I kinda feel.. weird not having told him earlier. I mean, I’m gonna tell him but-... It’s not that important, is it?”

***

Sam looks at Dean with a look that says 'Of course you should have, and of course it's important', but he doesn't push. Castiel looks over his shoulder and smiles, pointing out a beautiful building to the right, the architecture a perfect example of the baroque style. He smiles and turns back, Jess linking arms with Cas, and surprisingly, Cas just grins at her, pulling her close and laughing, pointing out more things as they walk.  
The closeness that Cas gets with Jess would be disturbing, but Jess and Anna are similar enough that it doesn't bother Dean. He just watches as they walk, arms linked, towards the Louvre. It's a Monday morning around 10am, and already the line is out the door. Castiel expected that though, so he leads them through the gardens, the fountains at the center already turned on, kids running around them laughing. There were balloon salesmen with hundreds of balloons, people riding by on bikes and couples walking hand in hand. Here in such a large city, no one looked twice at couples who were the same sex, so even if Cas and Dean were walking together through the gardens, no one would have cared. Not as much as they did in Le Havre, at least.  
They get through the line in only a half an hour though, the staff of the Louvre very efficient, and are soon on their way through the expansive museum.  
They say you could spend an entire week in the Louvre, and not absorb everything there was to see within its marbled halls.  
Cas rejoins Dean's side, walking around in silence, eyes wide in wonder. He had been to the Louvre once or twice before, but not in at least 5 years, not since his parents died.  
“Dean... Thank you for this... It is... beautiful.”

***

Dean chuckles quietly and takes Castiel’s hand, squeezing it slightly.  
“You know, Paris was your idea, Cas-… But you’re welcome.”  
Once more he raises Castiel’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles, before letting it fall to his side again. They spend around 2 hours inside, taking in the sights of the beautiful and famous paintings and sculptures. Dean isn’t very interested in art and he’d been to Paris only a month ago with Sam and Jess - but with Castiel it’s different. Most of the time he’s not even really paying attention to the paintings, instead watching Castiel’s eyes sparkle with awe, feeling his hand getting all sweaty and shaky, whenever he saw something that impressed him even more than everything else. It’s a bright and sunny day, when they finally leave the Louvre and decide to get some ice cream and sit down at the park. Dean is glad that Jess is here too, cause while he and Cas share their ice cream, sitting close together, knees brushing, Sam and Jess are doing the same, which is preventing Sam from making fun of Dean given the rare sight of his brother being so close with somebody. Afterwards they make their way through the inner-city of Paris to Notre Dame cathedral. When they walk around the corner, Dean is kind of disappointed though. He knew the cathedral from pictures and snippets of a Disney movie. In real life it seemed rather small, compared to anything he’d seen before… Still they walked over, taking silly pictures in front of it and finally walking in. It was rather chilly inside and Dean pulled Cas close, as they went on, admiring the figures of saints and the stained-glass windows.

***

The inside of the cathedral is just as magical and grandiose as the outside to Castiel, and he can't help the soft gasp of awe that escapes his lips, nor the squeeze against Dean's arm.  
“... Magnifique...”  
The make their way through the cathedral silently, then start the long climb up the stairs to the top of the towers, Dean looking around with a mild interest, but Castiel absolutely enthralled. He grins over at Dean once they reach the top, the view from the top of the towers gorgeous. It was one of the tallest buildings around, and the beautiful gargoyles were weather worn and unique, each one individual.  
“I love... the wings on the gargouilles...”  
He smiles and looks back at Sam and Jess, who are lost in each other's eyes, kissing sweetly as they stand with their arms around each other. Castiel elbows Dean gently and points at them, smiling up at Dean with his head tilted to one side.  
“They are very sweet, no?”  
He takes Dean's hand in his and then walks over to the other tower, walking inside and as close to the enormous bells as possible. They were impressive even from 15 feet away, huge and dark black. Dean's jaw dropped and Castiel laughed gently, wrapping an arm around his waist.  
“They're... HUGE.”  
“Oui Dean, they are.”  
He laughs and brushes a hand along Dean's back gently, looking up into his eyes, and looking behind them, noticing that everyone was still out on the walkway or in the other tower, Cas sneaks a quick kiss, grinning at Dean when he was done.

***

Dean licks his lips as soon as Cas pulls back, smiling at him deviously. Dean nudges him gently and they make their way over to the other tower, enjoying the panorama of Paris on this beautiful, sunny day. They visit another chapel afterwards, Saint something, Dean can’t quite memorize all the names of all the churches, and once more Castiel and Jess are enthralled with the beauty of its stained glass windows and how the light falls inside. Dean walks closely behind Castiel, watching his ever facial expression, smiling to himself whenever he gasps quietly, full of awe. When night falls over Paris once more, Dean refuses Sam and Jess’ suggested dinner and pulls Cas in their hotel room, properly kissing him for the first time today.  
“I'm sorry”, he says, voice muffled as he leans in to kiss him again “-couldn’t resist... Any longer..”  
They make their way over to the bed, kissing passionately but softly, undressing each other slowly. They curl up beside each other, hands on their hips and cheeks, still kissing gently.

***

Cas works Dean to hardness with his mouth, and then Dean returns the favor before they take turns being on top, first Cas, riding Dean to Dean's whispered praise and Castiel's name over and over; and then Dean flips them and finishes them both off while Cas tells him that he loves him over and over in English and French, arms wrapped around Dean's shoulders tight and crying out into the night as he comes with Dean's teeth biting his neck to stifle his own cry.  
They clean up in the huge bathtub, Cas lying back against Dean's body and humming softly, content, as Dean scrubs his thick hair with the overly perfumed hotel shampoo. Dean complains that it takes away Cas' scent, and Cas can't help but blush and duck his head at that, despite Dean's chuckle that it's 'okay, I'll just have to replace it with my scent'.  
They fall asleep not long after their bath, curled up together in the large bed, Castiel holding Dean tight, Dean's head resting on Cas' chest so he can listen to the smaller man's breath and heart which lull him to sleep.  
The next day starts just as early, breakfast in the hotel's lobby quick before taking a guided tour to all the major museums other than the Louvre in the city. But 11am even Cas is ready for a break, and they head to a nearby cafe, but pass a bookstore on the way with a sign up in French that they have D. Smith's newest book in stock. Cas smiles and grabs Dean's hand.  
“OH! Dean!.. J'adore this author, I must get this book, donne moi cinq minutes, d'accord?”  
Cas lets go of Dean's hand and walks towards the bookstore, while Sam and Jess glare daggers at Dean.

***

Dean is taken by surprise by Cas’ sudden decision and stays outside, turning around to face Sam and Jess, but avoiding their reproving looks.  
“Uhm… I think we need to.. would you mind going ahead? We’ll just..”  
But Sam interrupts him, sympathy but determination in his voice.  
“Dean, just call when you’re done and we’ll meet up again... Just-... just tell him already!”  
Dean nods and his brother and his fiancée turn away, walking down the street and disappearing around the next corner. Not much later, Castiel steps out of the book store, a plastic bag in one hand and a huge smile on his face. He looks a bit confused when he notices Sam and Jess’ absence but follows Dean without complaint, when he asks him to. They sit down on a bench in the shade of a small tree and Dean reaches over to take Cas’ hand. He’s not quite sure how to start, his guilty conscience bothering him more than ever.  
“Look… There’s something I gotta tell you. It’s not really a big deal, I just... I haven’t told you before and I realize that I should’ve...”  
He shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat and looking back up into Cas’ eyes.  
“You know I’m a writer... and… I-… It’s common to use aliases... Fake names when you publish books and…”  
He licks his lips, feels his hands sweaty around Cas’. There’s no point in sugarcoating it any longer…  
“I’m D. Smith, Cas…”

***

Castiel blinks and stares at Dean for a minute before laughing and shaking his head, because what a silly joke to play on Cas. When Dean just stares at him Cas gets quiet, then stutters, “… R-really?” to which Dean nods. Cas swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and looks down at his hands captured in Dean’s for a minute, before taking them out of Dean’s grasp and reaching into his bag to yank out the book.  
He points to it and shoves it toward Dean.  
“You are telling me that you, Dean Winchester, wrote this book?”  
Dean can only nod, and Castiel takes a deep breath, and then places the book in Dean’s lap. Cas is quiet until Dean looks up from the book to meet eyes with him, then he offers a tentative smile.  
“… I get your autographe, d'accord?”  
He tilts his head to one side, trying to make light of the tense situation, but inside was worried. Why had Dean kept this from him? Was there a specific reason he hadn’t told him that he was D. Smith? Cas had already showed him the book he had by Dean, dog eared from reading it so many times- so why hadn’t he just been up front about it?  
What was Dean hiding?  
Suddenly Castiel’s breath caught in his throat and he had to think hard to keep breathing. Cas didn’t know anything about D. Smith’s life, other than the fact that he had a younger brother and lived somewhere in America, the jacket cover hadn’t said where though. What if D. Smith had a whole other life in America, with a wife and children, or another lover? What if Cas was as much a vacation from his real life as France was?  
What if Dean had lied about all of that just as he had lied about being the author Cas so admired?

***

For a moment Dean isn’t sure what to think about Castiel’s reaction. First it seems as if the other man would hit him with the just purchased book, then he’s smiling and asking for his autograph. Dean clears his throat, carefully putting the book back into Cas’ lap and looking up at him.  
“Cas, you don’t have to pretend it’s okay... I know I should’ve told you earlier, I-… I don’t even know why I didn’t…”  
He falls silent again, licking his lips nervously.  
“Listen, it’s not a big deal-... I guess I felt... pressurized… I kinda realized you liked my books and-... I didn’t want you to feel-… obliged to say anything or act differently towards me…”

***

Castiel is quiet for a moment, fingers wrapping around the book reflexively, a protective instinct kicking in as he feels nervous and worried now about Dean, where moments earlier everything had been perfect.  
Cas bristles at Dean’s words and frowns, looking down at his hands.  
“… It was not fair for you… To keep this from me Dean. I deserve to know.”  
Castiel looks back up and his eyes are glassy, but he refuses to actually cry.  
“It is fine. Let’s not speak of it anymore… Just… Where are Sam and Jess? We have more to see today.”  
The way he speaks is stilted and stiff, but firm. Cas was done talking about it, and that was that. Cas stands up and puts the book back into the plastic bag, holding it in the hand nearest Dean, unconsciously making it so they can’t hold hands on the side.

***

Dean swallows heavily and then follows Cas, getting up slowly and shifting from one leg to the other uncomfortably.  
“Uh... They went ahead… I’m gonna… Gonna call Sam..”  
They start walking, Cas a little faster than usual and Dean has trouble keeping the pace, as he fumbles for his cell and dials Sam’s number. His brother’s voice is just as stiff as Castiel’s but there’s worry in there somewhere. Dean tells him quickly to meet him and Cas at the Sacré Coeur in half an hour and hangs up, trying to catch up with Cas. He decides not to say anything else, understands that Cas is hurt and needs time to deal with this and lets him. They cover the distance to the foot of the hill on which the Sacré Coeur is located in about 20 minutes and get on the lift, still not speaking as they reach the top where the impressive, huge, white building towers over the city. Cas sits down on the stairs in front of it, his eyes directed somewhere in the distant. Dean is grateful when he sees Sam’s broad shoulders paving the way for him and his fiancée and gets up to greet them. Jess sits down next to Cas, instantly starting to talk about the view and how famous this chapel was, while Dean stands close to Sam, telling him quietly about his conversation with Cas.  
“I think I screwed it up, Sam... He hasn’t said a word in half an hour…”

***

Cas talks quietly with Jess, smiling and laughing, but it’s a bit hollow sounding, even though he’s trying to enjoy himself, he can’t seem to stop his mind from running right back to the ‘Why’ of Dean not telling him about his pen name. It seemed a little ridiculous for it to just be because Cas would treat him differently- yes, of course it shone a new light on Dean, but not the one he thought it would.  
Cas didn’t see Dean as a famous author, at least that’s not where it ended. Cas saw him as a famous author that probably had a whole other life back home ; parties and women and men and possibly an entire family that Castiel knew nothing about.  
Why would Dean choose to stay here, in France, with Cas when he had all of that to go back to?  
Suddenly, a hope that Cas didn’t even know was growing inside of him, a hope that Dean would decide to stay in France with him, and they could grow old together, Dean writing in the shade of the fig trees and Castiel serving him new dishes every day- that hope was completely and utterly crushed, like a feeble ant beneath the cruel heel of reality. Castiel chokes back the quiet whimper that wants to escape his throat as Jess keeps talking and suddenly all he wants is to go home, away from this fairytale that he’d allowed himself to concoct with Dean. Because this wasn’t real, this was a holiday to Dean, time off for his lungs and his writing, and in a month he would be going home to America and Cas would be left here, alone. He felt incredibly tired, his entire body weighed down by the acknowledgment that Dean would be leaving, when he’d been trying his hardest to brush that thought to the back of his mind. The cabinet he’d locked the thought in earlier, deep under dark stairways and under dusty tarps was suddenly thrown open and everything was brought out into the harsh light of day.  
Dean was leaving.  
And there was nothing Castiel could do about it.

***

Neither Dean nor Cas enjoy the rest of the trip, one of them deep in thought while the other kept thinking of ways how to apologize and make it better. They return to the hotel early, leaving Sam and Jess in the lobby with not much more than a ‘goodnight’. Cas still hasn’t said a word to Dean and once the door’s closed he strides over to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Dean sits down on the bed, taking off his clothes slowly and waiting. It takes Cas half an hour to come back out and he’s already showered, his teeth are brushed and he’s wearing shorts and a tshirt for bed. Finally Dean clears his throat, but Cas just lies down in bed, turning his back towards Dean and turning off the light. Dean sits there for a moment longer, thinking. Then he gets up and in the bathroom. Cas is already asleep when he returns; or maybe he’s not, Dean only knows that he doesn’t reply to his whispered “Goodnight Cas… Love you”.  
The next morning is hard. Dean feels as if he’s hung over, his back and head hurting like hell. His worst fear is for Cas to be gone, but when he opens his eyes, Cas is still lying there, silent and still and somehow cold. Dean gets up, groaning quietly and heading towards the bathroom, taking a quick shower before leaving the bathroom again with a towel around his hips.

***

Cas lies still in bed, having not slept well last night at all, his head pounding and his heart aching. He had cried silently after Dean had said love you, curling fists around his pillow and breathing into it as quietly as he could. It hurt so fucking bad, feeling like this, torn in two. One half of him wanted nothing more than to grab Dean and make love to him and make him forget all about his other life back home, to stay here and never leave and be Castiel’s forever. The other half though, felt betrayed and angry and sad all at once, and bitterly shut down everything because to feel was to hurt.  
Castiel gets up once Dean is done in the shower and walks into the bathroom to quickly take care of his morning ritual of face washed and teeth brushed, hair combed with a bit of water to try and settled it down, even though that never worked.  
He dresses in the bathroom as well, settling on jeans and a plain white v-neck shirt, the jeans slung low on his hips, letting the occasional peek of stomach come out if he raises his arms or twists the right way. Cas comes back out of the bathroom to find Dean ready as well, and they wordlessly make their way to the lobby where they find Sam and Jess already waiting in the small café downstairs. Cas smiles softly when they wave, and he waves back, going and getting food for Dean and himself before returning to the table. He hands Dean his coffee and pastry, but once more doesn’t make eye contact, and of course Sam and Jess notice… But they say nothing. Cas sits down with his orange juice and yogurt and eats quietly, speaking up whenever he’s asked a question, but not really participating in the conversation that seems fueled by Sam and Jess alone.

***

It hurts how Cas treats him, downright ignores him, but Dean tries his best not to show just how much he suffers. He’s the one who lied to Cas and it’s Cas’ choice when and if he’s gonna forgive him. They finish breakfast and Jess hurries back to her and Sam’s room to get her purse, before meeting the others back in the lobby. They hadn’t really planned all that much for that day, mostly just decided on talking a walk along the Seine, having a look at the artists’ quarter and some small museums. Sam and Jess lead the way and after walking in silence for another, Dean can’t hold back anymore. He reaches out one hand, brushing it against Cas’ gently, curling his fingers around Cas’ and holding his hand for just a moment - until Cas pulls back, putting his hand into his pocket, eyes still staring straight forward. Dean grumbles quietly, trying once more, tugging at Castiel’s wrist, pulling his hand out of the pocket but once more Cas just shakes him off and Dean can’t take it any longer.  
“I know you’re mad at me and you’ve got every right-... But you’re acting like a child!”  
The last word is spoken with such hardness that it surprises Dean himself. He’s not only disappointed by the way Cas handles this situation, he’s pissed, too…

***

Castiel looks like he's been slapped, head snapping up, eyes wide and mouth dropped open slightly as he stares at Dean in silence for a moment. The emotions are plain on his face as he goes through them- shock, confusion, and then finally he settles on anger, those gorgeous blue eyes narrowing and his lips pulling back in a sneer.  
“A child, Dean?”  
He makes a frustrated sound and bites his lower lip hard, hard enough to cut it, but that does nothing to quell the anger that's boiling up inside, and it explodes without any further warning, there in the middle of a Parisian street with people walking by them suddenly giving the pair a wide berth. As Castiel yells he uses his hands to emphasize his pounds, clenching and un-clenching them, talking with them to point at Dean and the world around them.  
“I trusted you Dean, with everything! Je n'ai jamais... I have never lied to you, and I opened myself up to you. You are my first... Mon premier amour , my first everything. Et tu lied to me about something like this? Quoi d'autre, Dean?! What other things have you kept from me? Dis-moi, what are you hiding from me now?!”  
Tears well up in Castiel's eyes and he takes a step away from Dean, hands clenched into fists, shaking his head as his lower lip quivers.  
“You are leaving in a month, ça ne sert à rien -... Just... go home to America. Leave me alone... S'il te plaît, laisse moi seul.”  
Cas turns away and starts walking back to the hotel, only taking a few steps before he breaks into a run, unable to stop himself as his eyes burn and the tears fall, his chest tightening painfully. He suddenly needs to get as much space between him and the source of his pain as possible. It's not until he gets back to the hotel that he realizes that the source of his pain isn't Dean; but his own heart, breaking at the idea of being apart from Dean- of Dean going home, back to the now almost solid imaginary family that Castiel had invented in his head.  
He collapses onto the bed and sobs until he's hiccuping, until his body revolts from shedding anymore tears and his breath is a shuddering mess. Only then does he get back up off the bed and pack his things with trembling hands, making ready to leave Paris and go back to Le Havre and the safety of his cafe, knowing that he'll leave behind only a few things in this hotel room. The book he bought by D. Smith, and with any luck, Dean himself.  
Castiel pushes the tears down again at that thought, but keeps reminding himself that he can't let this go on- no matter what Dean says, he's leaving in a month, and everything they've meant to one another, all the beautiful nights of hand holding and love making, whispered 'I love you's- all of it, would be left behind in Castiel's lap when Dean leaves. And Cas knows he can't hold onto all of that alone, it's too strong, too intense, it means all too much to him; it will leave him broken and battered like bits of seashell under an uncaring surf, dashed upon sharp rocks.  
Dean leaving would break him, truly and utterly break him... Unless Castiel left first.

***

Dean is still, while Castiel talks, yells at him, gets everything he’s obviously been holding inside for a long time off his chest. And Dean takes it. Even though he can’t see half of Castiel’s problems, has solutions for part of them, he still listens. Then Castiel stops, breathing heavily for a moment and Dean opens his mouth to tell him, to explain to him how very wrong he is. But Cas turns on his heel and starts walking, running, without even looking back. And Dean is dumbfounded. He’s glued to the spot for almost a minute and when it occurs to him that he should go after him, Castiel is already lost in the busy crowd. Alarmed by the familiar loud voices, Sam and Jess had stopped and made their way back to join Dean, who’s still staring blankly ahead.  
“What’s wrong?”, Jess asks, one hand gently lying on Dean’s arm but he can’t say anything. Not now, not to them, not to anybody.  
He walks over to a low wall, sitting down before his shaking knees give out and hiding his face in his hands. For a seemingly endless stretch of time he just breathes, trying to calm himself down enough to answer the question of his family. Finally he raises his head and even as he’s speaking, the words sound surreal and wrong.  
“I think Cas just broke up with me...”  
When they return to the hotel an hour later, Cas’ things are gone, his side of the bed neat and un-crumpled and just the stupid book remaining as a reminder of his presence. Dean opens it, looking through each and every page, searching desperately for a note, a message - something. But it’s empty. Just as empty as Dean’s heart feels, now that Cas is gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel is quiet the whole train ride back, only letting a few tears slip out of his eyes to roll, scalding hot, down his cheeks. By the time he gets back to Le Havre and the café, it’s almost dark, and he takes the fire escape up to his room to avoid talking to Anna and Gabriel. He knows that tomorrow morning he would have to explain things, but for now all he wants to do is sleep. Thankfully, it’s a dreamless sleep, and for the first time since he’d met Dean, he doesn’t dream of that beautiful face and those gorgeous eyes surrounded by a galaxy of freckles.

The next morning when Cas walks into the café from the stairs leading to the second story, Anna shrieks and almost drops the bowl of fudge she’d been mixing, but Gabriel catches it with a soft mutter of “Fais attention!”.  
They spend two hours talking about what happened, Cas reluctant to spill, but eventually giving in when Gabriel threatens to sit on him and tickle him until he pees, like when they were children.  
*”FINE, Fine... Dean is D. Smith…”*  
*”Who?”*  
*”The Author, D. Smith… I have a few of his books, I loaned you one? ‘Blood-Red Tracks’?”*  
*”What?!”*  
Cas huffs a laugh and crosses his arms over his chest before leaning heavily against the counter.  
*”Yeah… I know…”*  
Anna shifts uncomfortably, rubbing her hands together.  
*”So… He lied to you about what his pen name was… How is that a big deal?”*  
*”Because I told him that D. Smith is one of my favorites! And he didn’t own up to being the same guy as the one I was gushing about!”*  
*”Maybe he was nervous?”*  
*”…You don’t get it Anna. What else has he lied about? What else has he kept from me? No one knows anything about D. Smith, I’ve looked online before… His life is a mystery. What if he has fucking kids and a wife and a hous-”*  
Cas was getting worked up, Anna could tell, his voice raising, breaking on his words, and his breath coming in quick shallow draws. Castiel’s eyes watered and she reached over and tugged him into a tight hug.  
*”Shhh… Shhh... Castiel, it’s okay…”*  
*”I’m going to kill him.”*  
Anna looks over at Gabriel, who's fists are balled up at his sides, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw.  
*”Gabe! That isn’t going to help the situation.”*  
*”He hurt our Cassy, Anna!”*  
Castiel just buries his face into Anna’s shoulder and cries again, the words he says next the only sound other than his quiet sobs that wrack his lean frame.  
*”He’s… Dean’s leaving in a month... I told him to just go home... He’s leaving.”*  
Gabriel and Anna look at one another, faces tight from how much they could tell Castiel was hurting in that moment. Castiel stops crying only a few minutes later, able to hold it together just a bit better now, and busies himself with making food for the day. By noon he’s exhausted though, and goes back upstairs to take a nap.  
The days continue like this, Cas keeping as busy as he can, but slowly becoming more and more withdrawn, until he’s barely saying anything. He sleeps over half of the day, and can’t summon the energy to do much of anything other than cook. The patrons seem to love it though, as his dishes are more unique, richer and more full of flavor than ever before. Cas doesn’t spare the white truffle oil or the dark chocolate anymore, using whatever he wants in his dishes and not caring about the expense or the rarity of the ingredients.  
Gabriel and Anna stay on though, to help him with the café, and when Cas is there they work in uncomfortable silence, but the minute he’s gone they’re discussing what to do to bring Castiel out of this funk. He’d only known the man a month, and this is what love did when it was gone, or at least given up on and shoved away, too painful to bear the thought of it.  
Three days pass like this, and by Saturday night Cas is only staying awake for 8 hours a day, gone to bed by 6pm. So when a figure that Gabriel recognizes and immediately bristles at walks up the steps of the café’s back door and inside, Castiel is already upstairs asleep.  
“YOU.”  
Gabriel puts as much venom into the word as possible as he stares at Dean, fists clenching.  
“He’s not awake, and you need to leave. Now.”

***

Despite Sam and Jess’ advice to go after Cas, leave Paris be and get the love of his life back, Dean insists on staying. The days of cheerful sightseeing, eating ice cream and taking walks are over, though, and on Friday evening Jessica decides they’d go back home the next day. Dean doesn’t argue, doesn’t have the strength or patience for it anymore, and packs his bag, ready to leave on Saturday noon. He gets out of the cab, not turning around to hug his brother and Jess or say goodbye properly, just walks inside, takes the elevator up to his room and falls on the bed. He hasn’t even once cried since Cas broke up with him, left him standing on a busy street in fucking Paris with nothing more than guilt and regret and confusion. He tosses and turns in bed, staring at the ceiling, out of the window, his eyes falling on every place he and Cas had been together, both of them standing on the balcony, Dean sitting above Castiel, who’s lying on the floor, Dean tickling him all over, Dean and Cas on the bed, making love… Dean shakes his head and gets up. He has to see Cas, there’s no way around it... He pays the taxi driver extra to hurry and arrives in the suburbs of Le Havre 15 minutes later, the cab parking a few blocks away from the café. Dean swallows hard and takes the steps down to the beach, making his way over to the backdoor of the café and walking inside the yard slowly, quietly. He should’ve known that Gabriel was here… That he and Anna would be pissed at him. So he raises a hand in defense, speaking with calm words.  
“I know I screwed up-… But frankly, it’s none of your business. I gotta talk to Cas.”  
He tries to scrape by the slightly smaller man but is gripped tightly at the wrist and held back.  
“Let go”, he says slowly, his voice now dangerously quiet.

***

“As I said… Castiel is asleep… And he doesn’t want to see you.”  
Gabriel doesn’t let go of Dean, his voice the same low whisper, eyes narrowed as he looks at Dean.  
“…You should go now, Monsieur Smith.”  
There’s a sneer in the way Gabriel says the name, lip curled back over his teeth as he glares up at Dean, smaller in height and build, but holding his own against the taller, stronger man in the way his eyes narrow and the threat in the words.  
“Castiel never wants to see you again.”  
Gabriel lets go of Dean’s wrist but shoves him away at the same time, just hard enough that Dean stumbles back a few steps towards the door. Gabriel puts his hands on his hips, squares his shoulders off, face impassive as he stares Dean down.

***

Dean’s breathing hard when he straightens up again, staring back at Gabriel with reluctance and disbelief. Castiel did… He really wanted…  
“I don’t believe you.”, he says quietly, his lips trembling as he looks straight into the other man’s eyes “I don’t-“  
“You broke his heart! He can’t stand to see you anymore! Now go.”  
Dean stands there for a seemingly endless moment, just staring, breathing, thinking… Then, slowly, reluctantly, he starts moving, turning around and walking towards the stairs in trance. He turns around one more time, looking up at the dark window of Castiel’s bedroom and then back at Gabriel.  
“I honestly love him, you know…”, he says, not even sure how he expects Gabriel to react. Then he turns around and does what Gabriel told him, does what Castiel wants him to do. He leaves.

***

It takes Castiel an entire week from the time he left Paris to start eating normally and sleeping somewhat normally again. His habits slowly return to normal, and within another few days, he’s so jittery and hyper that it’s driving both Anna and Gabriel insane.  
*”What is wrong with you?!”*  
*”What?”*, Castiel blinks as he’s looking up from the third wedding cake he’s made that morning.  
*”You have far too much energy for someone with a broken heart Castiel”*, Anna says, and crosses her arms over her chest, frowning at him. Cas blanches, his whole face falling, and Anna instantly regrets mentioning the taboo subject of Dean around Cas.  
*”I’m sorry Castiel, I’m sorry, it’s okay…”*  
*”… No… You’re right Anna... I’m…”*  
He takes a deep breath and then slowly lets it out, shaky, and sets down the frosting bag on the counter before looking back up at her.  
*”I’m avoiding doing anything about it… Because I’m terrified that if I go and apologize-”*  
*”WHAT? Apologize?!”*, Gabriel roars from the doorway, having just come back from a delivery.  
*”Yes, Gabe, apologize. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself before I just stormed off… I left him in the middle of Paris without so much as a note.”*  
Cas frowns, worrying his lower lip in the silence behind his words, before speaking again, voice pained.  
*”He hasn’t even come to speak to me… He must be very mad with me…”*  
Gabriel shifts uncomfortably, looking instantly guilty, and Anna catches it.  
*”Gabriel...?”*  
He flushes and looks up at her, then quickly away, and Anna gasps.  
*”Gabriel! What did you do?!”*  
*”Nothing!… I just… Last Saturday he came around…”*  
Castiel’s head snaps up, eyes wide as he stares at Gabe, who falters, wincing at the wide eyed look of slowly building fury that Castiel was giving him, and Gabriel unconsciously flinches away from it.  
*”And… I told him that Castiel was asleep and to go away…”*  
*”And…?”* Cas’ voice is quiet, but laced with anger.  
*”… And… I told him… That you never wanted to see him again.”*  
Castiel’s face pales and he puts a shaky hand over his lips.  
*”Oh… God… No… Gabriel please tell me you’re lying…?”*  
Castiel’s voice cracks over his words and a broken sob rushes from his lips when Gabriel shakes his head and looks down at the ground.  
*”Why would you DO THAT?!”*  
*”Because you were so sad, Cassy! He broke your heart, and I… I didn’t want to see that happen again, okay? You said it yourself, he’s leaving and he lied to you and-”*  
*”But that’s MY choice Gabriel! I was pissed at him and I told him to leave but… But that doesn’t mean that’s what I really truly want!”*  
Anna takes a hold of Castiel’s hand and squeezes it, and he calms down a bit, breathing quickly, and in the space of quiet Anna speaks.  
*”… What do you want Castiel…? What do you really want?”*  
*”…. I want Dean.”*  
*”And?”*  
*”… I want Dean to stay here… To WANT to stay here… with me. I want him to write his stupid books out there on his computer under the fig trees, and to bring him coffee every morning and make him try out the new pastries, and to never ever fall asleep alone again because he’d be there, Anna, and I wouldn’t have to worry about another family in America because I’d be his family, and he’d stay here in France with me, and-”*  
Anna places a finger against Castiel’s trembling lips and he quiets, looking up into her eyes with tears falling from his. She smiles gently and kisses his forehead, then cups his face with two hands.  
*”Then why are you still here Castiel?”*  
Castiel swallows thickly, Anna’s words sinking in and setting off explosions in his mind and heart, all the what ifs and worries and he lied to me!- falling away because they suddenly don’t matter anymore, not even a little bit. A second later Castiel is scrambling out the door and hailing a cab, not even bothering to take his apron off, speaking in rushed tones to the driver, telling him to hurry to the hotel he knew Dean was staying at.  
*”Please, hurry.”*

***

Sam calls every day now. Dean knows he’s worried about him and by the time the phone on his room rings for the third time the day, Dean is sure that Sam thinks he’s gonna hurt himself, end the grief and pain with his own hands. So Dean talks to him, about everything and nothing. About how he’s making proper progress with his book, asks him about certain plot points he needs a second opinion on and listens to Sam talking about his neighbor’s kids and how recently they always came by and wanted to play with Jessica. On Wednesday afternoon, Sam asks him to come stay with them and Dean agrees without further bristling. He’s quiet as he starts packing his bags, removing all his personal belongings from the bathroom, the small living room and the bed room. By midnight he’s done, sitting down on the bed and looking around the apartment for a while. He closes his eyes, shutting off the memories of him and Cas. This is a good thing. He’s going to leave this behind. He’s going to forget Cas. At least he’s going to try. Thinking of him and his harsh words spoken through his cousin, hurt too much, threatened to rip his heart into even smaller pieces.  
The cab arrives Thursday morning fifteen minutes early and Dean stumbles out of the elevator to quickly check out. The 40 minutes drive over to Sam and Jess’ is quiet and Dean ignores the familiar streets they’re passing, keeping his eyes on his hands folded in his lap. His brother and his fiancée welcome him with open arms, Jess having prepared a rich breakfast table and when they eat and talk, Dean is able to forget about his worries and his broken heart for the first time in days…

***

It's only a little after noon by the time Castiel gets to the hotel on Thursday, and pays the cabbie quickly before rushing inside and over to the check in counter. The man behind the counter looks up at the panting fidgety man, and raises a slow brow.  
*”May I help you sir?”*  
*”Yes-yes, I'm hoping so... I need to speak with Mr. Winchester, I... Can you please call his room for me?”*  
The man types into the computer and looks through their records, before clearing his throat and looking up with a slightly bored look at Cas.  
*”There is no Mr. Winchester checked into the hotel as of now... Sir.”*  
Castiel feels his entire body just freeze in place, every cell, every atom just stopping for a moment in time as the words hit him and sink in.  
*”...What...?”*  
*”... There is no Mr. Winches-”*  
*”Yes okay, but... That's not possible, he was staying here for a month...”*  
*”... Let me look at our records...”*  
The man is moving far too slowly for Cas, and his hands shake so much he has to put them into his pockets to hide it.  
*”... Ah... Dean Winchester... Checked out this morning, 8am.”*  
Castiel's knees buckle beneath him and he quickly yanks his hands out of his pockets to grab onto the marble counter top for support as he reels from what the man just told him.  
Dean was gone. Dean had left. Dean had actually left him, and gone back to America....  
Cas licks his lips and takes a shuddering breath before speaking to the bewildered attendant.  
*”I... Um... Did he... leave a note, or anything? I... We... we were supposed to meet.”*  
The man raises an eyebrow but turns around and looks in a file of notes and mail left for and by the customers of the hotel, shifting through them, once again far too slowly for Castiel's taste. He turns back around and Cas can already tell by the withdrawn look on his face that no... Dean hadn't left a note.  
And Cas had no way of contacting him. The hotel was the only place he knew how to get in contact with Dean, other than his cell phone, and as luck would have it Dean had bought a French pre-paid number for his time in France... So that would do no good back in America.  
Cas nods his thanks to the attendant and then walks slowly, shakily, out of the hotel and onto the street. He walks silently back to the cafe, the five miles from the cafe to the hotel going slowly as he trudges along, ignoring the entire world as it passes him by. Every thought was on Dean, on how Castiel had royally screwed this up, had made mistake after mistake, and now Dean really was gone- just like Castiel had said he wanted.  
But he didn't want that, he never really had... All of his fighting and insecurities stemmed from fear of losing Dean, not from anything Dean had actually done or said.  
He chokes back a sob as he realizes that he had made his worst fears come true all on his own, by being so scared of love that he cut it off right when it was just starting to truly blossom.  
Cas doesn't sleep that night, nor the night afterward, and by Saturday he is such a wreck that Gabriel and Anna take turns forcing him to eat and shower, get out of bed and help in the kitchen. It's all mechanical for Cas though, his mind stuck on Dean, and everything that they should have had, if only Cas hadn't fucked it all up.

***

The days go by quite uneventful and despite the loving and familiar environment, Dean’s heart feels heavy and numb. He writes, more than he managed to accomplish in the two months he’d known Castiel, trying to hide in his work. He’s wearing the mask of the quiet but cheerful house guest, bonding with neighbors at weekly barbeques, talking to the mailmen, when Sam and Jess are both at work and from time to time playing with the kids across the street. By the end of the third week at their place, Jessica puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, while he’s working in the garden, cutting rose bushes and mowing grass. Sam is standing behind her, arm wrapped protectively around her waist, the smile on his face only surpassed by the one on Jess’ rosy lips.  
“I’m pregnant, Dean”, she tells him and Dean can’t help but throw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly, small tears of happiness in his eyes.

It’s Friday night and it’s Dean’s last night at Sam and Jess’, his last official night in Le Havre, France. His flight is scheduled for noon the next day, the cab is ordered and his suitcase is packed. They’re sitting on the porch, drinking wine - grape juice for Jess - and just enjoying the company of each other for a little longer. Dean hasn’t thought of Castiel that much in the past three weeks but the closer his departure came, the more his heart hurt and longed for the other man. When Dean gets up abruptly, putting down his glass and looking at his brother with firm, determined eyes, Sam doesn’t ask what’s going on. He and Jess know, they always do, they simply understand what he has to do. Dean walks to the next taxi stand, gets inside the closest cab and tells the driver the address of the Petits Gâteaux. He’s nervous on the drive, fidgeting and shifting in his seat, brushing his hands over his clothes over and over again. When they arrive, Dean stays in the cab for a moment longer, suddenly unsure if this had been a good idea. He gently tries to push the door of the café open but it’s locked already. Confused he checks his watch. Only 10pm. Far too early for Cas to close the place. He frowns, thinking for a moment, then making his way outside the building and to the back door, climbing over the iron gate and walking over the yard. There’s light in the kitchen and as he comes closer, he can hear the familiar voice singing quietly to himself. Dean’s heart hurts, as he realizes just how much he’d missed this, how much he’d missed Castiel, longed for him. He steps inside the interior of the café, stopping at the counter and just looking. Castiel works quietly, swiftly but carefully and Dean can’t help to admire his professionalism. Finally, after what seems like hours, he plucks up the courage to step closer, into the door frame, clearing his throat softly. Castiel jumps, like literally jumps, letting the pan and spatula fall to the ground, as he spins around, eyes wide and full of disbelief.  
“Hey Cas…”

***

Castiel had spent the last three weeks wishing he hadn't screwed everything up, that he hadn't left Paris, that he had explained better to Gabriel what was going through his head- anything to have Dean not have left for America almost a month early. He had considered writing Dean at his publisher's address, and had actually penned dozens of letters. Every one of them ended up tucked in his night stand, folded inside an addressed envelope that Castiel wasn't able to send; he just wasn't able to take that step, knowing that Dean had left, and probably didn't want to see Castiel ever again, not after the way he'd treated Dean, and certainly not after Gabriel's harsh words.  
He'd gone back to his normal routine of making delicious meals for the locals, ignoring the tourists as much as possible, though now it was much easier to deal with them, being at least partly fluent in English as he was now. The days went by quickly, but the nights? They lasted forever, and Castiel had yet to sleep a whole night through without waking up to a dream that wasn't going to come true, to his heart burning and aching in his chest like his ribcage was suddenly two sizes too small, tight around his internal organs to the point of pain. He had grown accustomed to sleeping with a pillow in his arms, wrapped up tight and doubled over so it was approximately the size of Dean's chest, burying his face against it for some semblance of comfort that was never really enough.  
Castiel was sure he would never see Dean again, and he felt that even though he might not die of a broken heart, he sometimes wished it was possible, because living with a broken heart was the far more painful of the two options.  
So to hear footsteps behind him, assume it was Gabriel and not pay any attention until that voice spoke up, like a rough 3 part harmony strung across his heart, Castiel was surprised all he did was drop the things in his hands, and not straight out faint from the shock of it all.  
His eyes flare wide, knees weak as he struggles to comprehend that Dean was there, not a mirage or a daydream, or one of the million torturous fantasies he'd had in the time they'd been apart. No, Dean was really there, standing in front of him, and looking so much the part of the dashing Prince that Cas always knew he was.  
“... Dean...”  
His voice cracks as he says Dean's name, Cas' lower lip quivering, and it takes all his self control not to run forward and throw his eager arms around Dean's shoulders and hold him and sob and let everything out.  
“W-what are you doing here?”

***

Dean doesn’t know about the silent war in Castiel’s head but he can see the shock in his eyes slowly making way for relief and something that might be hope. He clears his throat, forcing himself to avert his eyes, letting them wander over the quite messy room, the dozens of bowls and kitchenware, sugar and flour all over the kitchen surfaces.  
“I... I guess I came to say goodbye.”, he finally says, voice so quiet, so deep that he wonders if Castiel even understood a word he said.  
When he raises his head slowly, there’s still nothing but confusion on Castiel’s face and it takes Dean a painfully long moment to get over the invisible but adamant barrier between them.  
“I just wanted to see you once more and… Apologize... For lying to you, I mean…”  
He swallows hardly, looking straight into those blue orbs he still loves above everything else.  
“Cas, I wish… I wish I could do anything to fix this...”

***

Castiel's brow is furrowed down in the center, tight above his burning, teary eyes as he speaks.  
“I...- Dean... I thought you left for America a month ago...”  
He takes a hesitant step forward and bites his lower lip, choking back the flurry of words that threaten to rush forward. He looks down at his feet and speaks quietly, but his voice no longer breaks over the words as he lets them fall out of his lips.  
“... I forgave you for the lie a while ago... I... Gabriel lied to you Dean...”  
Castiel fidgets with one of the strings on his apron, chest tight and breathing shallow.  
“... I never said the things he told you... I'm so sorry that he made you think I did...”  
He grimaces, knowing that it must have been awful to hear those things, knowing that if he'd heard them from Sam it would have broken his heart to think that Dean had said that about him.  
It's confusing, Castiel had assumed that Dean had gone home after he checked out of the hotel, but within seconds the connection is made in his mind, and he realizes that he must have gone to stay with Sam and Jess. Of course he went to stay with them, they'd been bugging him to stay with them since Dean first came to France, and he had stayed there a few days once before... Before Cas had made him leave to come see him, and thrown his arms around Dean and told him he loved him for the first time. Castiel's heart sinks at that thought, his entire body aching from the memory, so vivid, that happened just 10 feet from where they were currently standing.  
Cas looks up at Dean again, looking into his eyes, his own red rimmed and glassy from the tears that threaten to escape any moment.

***

In a matter of seconds the whole point of this visit turns 180° - Dean had been under the impression that Cas didn’t want to see him again, that he’d given up on him already and that he would probably throw him out, the moment he’d set a foot inside the café. Castiel telling him that all this had been a lie, that he’d been just as miserable as himself being apart from each other - all of this is too much, the feeling of relief and fury and confusion too strong. Dean takes a step forward, holding onto the kitchen counter, as he forces himself to look into Castiel’s eyes.  
“He… You never...?”  
His voice breaks, he falls silent again, gripping the edge of the counter tightly, knuckles showing.  
“So all of this was for nothing?”, he finally says, tears of anger in his eyes “I was fucking dying without you and he... he just…”  
He turns around abruptly, walking out of the kitchen and out in the yard, crouching down, hiding his face in his hands and just breathing.

***

Castiel hesitates, then slowly walks out to join Dean, sitting down on the steps leading from the cafe to the courtyard silently. He sits there in silence for a moment, before speaking.  
“... Gabriel knows that what he did was wrong... But... By the time I found out what he had done, it was too late... I...”  
He swallows around the lump in his throat and looks down at his hands, folded in his lap, clenching fingers around one another.  
“... I went to your hotel... And you were gone.”  
Castiel's eyes shut and his next words are whispered, filled with pain.  
“... I thought you had left... Gone back to America... And it was all my fault, because I told you to go, because I was so mad at you, Dean... And scared... And... I-... I- thought you actually left...”  
He lets the tears fall, hot on his hands, shoulders curled up in a protective posture around his neck slightly, curled over his own lap. Cas looks up at the hunched over figure that is the man he loves, sitting in the dark courtyard of his cafe, and something that feels like 200 pounds of pressure is lifted off of his shoulders as he realizes that it was all a big misunderstanding. Dean was still here... And he still wanted him.  
Until he remembers that Dean came to say goodbye, and that crushing weight is back again, full force, right over his chest once more.  
“... Wait... You came- to say goodbye?”  
His eyes widen slightly and panic sets in, making Cas' breath come in short shallow gasps.

***

Dean cries silently, not looking up, not saying anything, until Castiel falls silent again. He takes a deep breath, in and out, steadying himself, his pulse thrumming loud in his ears.  
“My flight… I’m leaving tomorrow... I thought-… I thought that’s what you want...”  
Slowly he gets up, every movement hurting like the worst hangover he’d ever had and he knows that this is the physical pain of losing Cas once more. There’s shock on Cas’ face, disbelief and a hint of disappointment, anger, everything Dean is feeling himself.  
“I still love you, Cas… I-… I don’t wanna go...”  
He takes a step towards Cas, brushing his hand over his carefully, uncertain, looking up into his eyes as he speaks again, his words quiet and so full of pain.  
“Please, Cas… Don’t let me go, please…”

***

Cas takes Dean's hand in his and yanks him down so that Dean is practically sprawled over Cas as the smaller man wraps his arms around Dean's back in a tight embrace, sobbing out the next words against his neck.  
“I never wanted you to go Dean! Ever! I was so scared of losing you... Everyone in my family... They die of broken hearts Dean... One goes and then... Their partner goes only a month or two later...”  
He pulls back and cups Dean's face with his hands, holding softly, thumbs brushing over Dean's cheekbones.  
“I made the mistake of pushing you away from me... Scared of losing myself... And now... I know that I'm more terrified of losing you than I've ever been of dying.”  
Cas stares into Dean's eyes while he speaks, voice trembling, shaky from the emotion that fills it.  
“... Stay here, in France... Stay with me. I don't care if you have a family, or a house or anything else back home in America... I want you to be here with me, just me....”  
His words are rushed, the last pieces tinged with shame at being so selfish to pull Dean from anything he has back home, the things that Castiel had made up in his mind, all the things he assumed Dean was hiding from him.

***

For a moment all Dean wants to do is indulge the feelings washing over him, relief, joy, happiness, love… but Castiel’s words leave a bad taste in his mouth and Dean pulls away just slightly, looking at the other man with confusion.  
“I don’t… What makes you think there’s anyone waiting for me?”  
He shakes his head softly, cupping Castiel’s hands on his cheeks with his own, keeping them there, tilting his head slightly to press his fingers to the palm of Castiel’s hand.  
“I told you, you’re the only one, Cas... I would never… There’s nothing but an empty designer apartment waiting for me, Cas…”  
He raises his head and smiles, but doesn’t stop talking, can’t stop assuring Cas that he’s serious.  
“If only you’d talked to me, Cas... I spoke to my editor and he said he doesn’t give a fuck where in the world I work, as long as there’s electricity and a phone line.”  
And when Cas is still looking at him with this shocked, disbelieving face, Dean can’t hold back any longer. He leans in, one hand underneath Cas’ chin, tilting it up slightly and gently pressing his lips against his. It’s like fireworks, like New Years Eve and Christmas and 4th of July at once, every worry, ever fear falling off his chest and allowing it to fill with joy and bliss and love.

***

Cas' entire body thrills at Dean's touch, electrical shivers sliding up his spine as Dean kisses him- the first kiss he'd had since he last saw Dean... Castiel wraps his arms around the back of Dean's neck and pulls him in close, leaning back against the steps so Dean was lying against him. He sighs into the kiss, breaking it so that he can look up into Dean's beautiful lush green eyes, taking in the way the moonlight reflects off his own face to touch Dean's eyes, sparkling off the golden flecks.  
“Please… Tell me you're staying here... With me...”  
He kisses Dean again, slow and soft.  
“You are everything... I love you so much Dean...”

***

When Cas kisses him again, Dean’s lips curl into a smile, full of bliss and relief and his answer comes as nothing more but a gentle rush of air against the skin of Castiel’s mouth.  
“I will never leave you again, Cas.”  
He opens his eyes, returning the yearning look out of glassy eyes, before leaning down again and deepening the kiss. His tongue glides over chapped skin, teases until Castiel opens his lips, letting Dean in, and when their tongues touch it feels like Dean’s finally home again. One of his hands remains on Castiel’s cheek, gently holding him in place, thumb stroking over the warm skin of his throat, as the other travels down his body slowly, gliding over his firm chest, the flat of his stomach and his thighs, the touch sending delicious shivers down Castiel’s body.  
“I missed you… So much...”, he says and is only faintly surprised by the neediness blatantly present in his voice.

***

Castiel's voice breaks out against Dean's lips, a soft cry of want and need, breath hot as the sound comes out of his throat.  
“Dean... I need you...”  
He wraps his arms tighter around Dean's shoulders and leans up for another kiss, hungry for more of Dean, everything he'd been missing in the past month. Cas arches his hips up against Dean, letting every piece of his insecurities fall away in this moment, in the way Dean holds him and kisses him back.  
Cas sits up, pushing Dean away just for a moment to stand up and pull Dean with him, inside the cafe, towards the stairs, stopping to push Dean against the door of the fridge for another needy kiss, mouth open wide to take in Dean's moans, tongue dancing against Dean's, nipping at his lips.  
“Dean... Make me yours again, please...”

***

Dean can’t say much more than “Yes” and “Bed” to this, as they’re kissing again, hungry and desperate for more. They make their way upstairs slowly but surely, Dean guiding Cas backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls, pulling Dean with him. They roll around aimlessly, each of them fighting for dominance until Cas gives in, letting go of Dean’s wrists and curling his hands around Dean’s neck instead, deepening their kisses. Dean presses his lower body down, rubbing their hips together and Cas eagerly spreads his legs, giving Dean space to kneel in. His hands fall to Castiel’s hips, swift fingers opening button and fly of his pants, before diving in, gliding over the hot skin of his pelvis, playing with the small hairs down there and finally softly stroking over his cock. The moans coming over Castiel’s lips are like music, a symphony Dean had craved for too long, a melody that makes his whole body hum with satisfaction.

***

Castiel cries out as Dean's hand wraps around his cock, his whole body bucking up towards Dean. He wraps his arms around Dean's back and pulls him down for another deep kiss, shuddering into the kiss, breath coming in shallow pants.  
Cas hadn't spent much time in the past month giving himself pleasure- the only thing that made him come was fantasies of Dean now- and those fantasies were just as likely to make him cry as they were to make him climax.  
It's not surprising that after only a moment or two Castiel tenses, eyes shutting as he arches his head back, coming with a soft groan over Dean's hand, hands gripping the back of Dean's shirt as his mouth opens around the sound escaping his straining throat.  
“Ah- nghh...”  
He shivers for a moment before opening his eyes and looking up at Dean, cheeks flushing bright red.  
“... Mon Dieu...”  
Castiel's breath slows down slightly, but still quicker than his usual pace, chest rising and falling beneath Dean's own torso.

***

Dean blinks in surprise, when he feels Castiel’s body trembling and then, only seconds later, warm liquid running over his fingers.  
“Amen to that.”, he agrees with a sly smile, keeping his hand on Cas, carefully stroking him.  
He leans down to kiss Cas again, brushing his lips over his red cheeks and nose first, before pressing against his mouth.  
“Don’t worry... I’m close, too”, he then says quietly, softly nipping at Castiel’s earlobe and kissing down his throat, stopping only to suck gently, leaving dark red marks everywhere his lips had been.  
“Please Cas… I need you...”

***

Cas quickly flips them, stripping off his own shirt before shimmying out of his pants and underwear, moving quickly so he can get to Dean's. His hands shake slightly, not out of nervousness but anticipation, touching Dean like this again something he'd hoped for but never really thought would happen again.  
He unbuttons Dean's jeans and slides the zipper down quickly, pushing Dean's shirt up his stomach and leaning down to kiss and bite at the smooth flesh that he uncovers there. One of Cas' hands dips down inside Dean's boxers, wrapping his nimble fingers around the length of his cock, squeezing gently and using his other hand to shove the pants down a bit more to free his cock.  
Cas is quick at this, flipping the boxers back to completely free Dean's cock before sliding his mouth around the tip with a guttural groan. He had missed this, touching Dean and working for Dean's pleasure, lips wrapping tight around him, just under the crown. Castiel circles his tongue around the tip and slides his mouth down while one hand stays wrapped around the base to steady Dean's length inside his mouth.

***

Dean would praise Cas, would acknowledge and appreciate what he’s doing, if only he was able to form a single coherent thought right now. His fingers dig into the bedspread beneath him, when Cas’ sinful lips close around his cock, gently embracing him with the oh-so-familiar warmth. A low groan falls from Dean’s lips, as he throws his head back and his mouth falls open with throaty gasps.  
“C-as… Oh god, Cas..”  
His fingers find their way over Cas’ shoulders, the back of his neck and finally tangling inside his thick, black hair, gripping as if this was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him alive. They’ve both been untouched for too long and just as Castiel couldn’t hold back after only a few strokes only minutes ago, Dean isn’t able to stifle the feral groan when Cas deepthroats him, licking the tip of his cock and making him come at a record time. His fingers grasp at Cas’ hair, one hand falling to his shoulder, nails digging in the warm flesh deep as Cas keeps sucking him through his orgasm.

***

Cas slowly pulls off Dean and crawls up onto the bed next to him to kiss him slowly, lazily, now that the urgent need was fulfilled for both of them. He closes his eyes around the burning tears that threaten to come, but they come anyway, trailing down his cheeks as he sobs once against Dean’s lips.  
Dean pulls back and brushes a hand along Cas’ cheek, but he just shakes his head and brings his own hand up to press Dean’s hand against his cheek, eyes still shut tight.  
“... I thought I would never see you again Dean…”  
Castiel opens his eyes again and looks into Dean’s eyes, the blue even more vibrant from the scalding tears that fell silently from the corners of his eyes.  
“You have no idea… How sorry I am…”  
He leans in to rest his forehead against Dean’s, both of them lying on their sides like parentheses, facing one another to enclose all the things in the world that mattered in the moment- just the two of them in this bedroom, in the quiet of the night.

***

Dean looks up at Cas, the tears in his lover’s eyes burning like fire on his skin, as he wipes them away.  
“Shh, shh…”  
Dean raises his hand to Castiel’s lips, stopping him from going on, from punishing himself more than he already did.  
“You suffered long enough… We both did... Let’s just… Let’s not talk about it anymore, kay?”  
He kisses him again, slowly but more passionate than moments ago, determined on making Cas forget, making him believe Dean’s words. They don’t talk for some time, only parting their lips to breathe. He doesn’t want to but his whole body aches, his limbs heavy, his eyelids closing tiredly. He hums disapprovingly, snuggling against Castiel’s warm, naked body, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. He’s already half asleep when something comes to his mind and he sits up in the bed reluctantly, reaching for his pants on the ground, pulling out his cellphone. When he notices Castiel’s confused look, he just smiles, kissing him reassuringly.  
“Don’t worry, baby. Just a flight I need to cancel..”

***

Castiel blushes but can’t help the relieved smile that spreads quickly over his face. He flops back against the bed with a soft laugh, happy, truly happy, for the first time in a month.  
He shivers slightly and pulls the covers of the bed back, crawling under them and curling up against the pillow, making sure to leave the other side un-tucked for Dean to crawl in beside him once the phone call is done. Cas blushes as he watches Dean’s strong form walk around his bedroom, talking quietly on the phone with who he assumed to be someone from the airline.  
It’s then that it hits Cas that Dean was really doing this- he was staying here in France for him. Cas smiles and a soft gasp of happiness escapes his throat and he buries his face under a pillow to disguise the happy giggle that escapes his throat inside the downy fluff.  
This was a dream come true, to have Dean actually stay, to have him want nothing more than to be there with Cas, the same was Cas wanted nothing more than Dean beside him. There was nothing holding Dean in America, so cutting ties would be little more than selling his things and moving here permanently. Sam and Jess were already here, as Dean had said, so there was no reason not to live here in Le Havre, which was only a short drive away… He pulls the pillow away from his face as he hears silence and looks up at Dean hovering over him with a bemused look on his face. Cas bites his lower lip and smiles, shrugging gently.  
“Happy.” He states, and the one word explains everything.

***

Canceling the flight is no problem, just as Dean had assumed, and even though the charge of 50% of the airfare hurt - right now Dean couldn’t bring himself to care about money, or anything other than Cas. When he walks back to the bed, Cas’ face is hidden underneath a pillow and when he finally looks back up at Dean, his face is flushed with bliss.  
“I know.”, Dean says, smiling back at him “Me too.”  
Cas lifts up the blanket and Dean takes the invitation without hesitating, slipping in next to him and once more entwining their bodies, his hands on Cas’ shoulder and hip, his legs tangled around Cas’. They stay like this for a while, time ticking by without either of them really being aware. Dean’s fingers slide over the body of the man in front of him, the man he is willing to give everything up for, the man he’d been completely and helplessly in love with ever since he first saw him. He smiles at that notion and when he starts talking again after what seems like eternity, his voice is quiet but full of promise and ambivalence.  
“You’re totally gonna teach me French, dude.”

***

Cas laughs gently and nods.  
“I will, Dean...”  
He leans in and kisses Dean again gently, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to pull him down over him, deepening it. They make love slowly that night, pulling moans and gasps and cries of pleasure from each other for hours until neither can really move anymore, and then they fall asleep, tangled in each other's arms, a sheet thrown over them haphazardly, an afterthought.  
Cas' last thought before he falls asleep is that this is the happiest he's ever been in his entire life- and that it can only get better from here.  
~  
7 Months later  
~  
“Dean hurry up! I will not be late to my God daughter's welcome home party!”  
Dean rushes down the stairs, arms filled with the gifts that Castiel had wrapped earlier in the week in preparation for the welcome home party that they were throwing, along with Gabriel and Anna and a few others, for Sam and Jess' bundle of joy.  
They hurried out to the car and drove the half hour to Sam and Jess' house where Gabe and Anna were already waiting, having decorated the house with balloons and posters and streamers, purple and yellow, gender neutral, as the gender of the baby had been a surprise when they were shopping for supplies.  
Castiel was still so excited about even being named the God Father, though he really shouldn't be, considering how close he and Sam and Jess had become over the past 7 months.  
They had become like one cohesive family unit, everyone pitching in to help everyone else, Jess and Anna becoming best friends almost overnight, and Sam and Gabriel bonding, strangely enough, over their mutual love of everything history related. Dean and Cas had watched as their two worlds collided, and instead of crumbling and breaking apart, simply shifted and melded until you couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.  
It made Cas incredibly happy, standing there in Sam and Jess' kitchen, finishing up the touches on the cake he'd brought, to have found this- the family he'd been denied once his and Anna's parents died. He looks up and out into the living room where Dean was, once again, telling Anna that everything was fine and to stop fretting over the art she'd brought, as he was sure that Jess would love it. Cas smiles to himself and looks down again, an overwhelming sense of belonging coming over him.

***

The past months had gone by rather quickly and things went surprisingly smoothly. Despite Dean’s constant affirmation that it was not a big deal, moving his whole life to France had been a pretty huge step for the 28-year-old writer. He was glad that Cas didn’t expect him to move in with him right away and Dean had stayed at his hotel for a while, giving them time to experience their relationship in this new, different situation a little longer. Two months ago, when Jess’ belly had already been round as a ball, Dean had thrown all worries over board and asked Cas to move together. Cas had basically thrown himself at Dean, eliciting chuckles from everyone at the table. Even Gabriel seemed much more on board with the Dean and Cas connection, trying to make up for his terrible mistake as much as he could. Dean appreciated the effort and if he was entirely honest, already forgave the usually cheerful man, but still enjoyed the small favors Gabe did them from time to time. He was glad that both of their families liked each other, one of those things you can’t plan but only hope for. So when Sam and Jess had asked Dean, if it would be a problem for him, if they asked Cas to be the infant’s Godfather, he’d agreed happily.  
“You know me, I’d just forget his or her birthday and screw up all the time.”, he’d said and hugged his sister-in-law.  
Cas’ face when they’d asked him had been priceless and Dean wouldn’t trade his tears of joy for the world. Finally the day had come and Sam had gone to pick up his fiancée and their baby girl from the hospital. Dean joins Cas in the kitchen, wrapping one arm around his hips and gently kissing his neck.  
“It looks perfect.”, he whispers against the warm skin, feeling Castiel shiver slightly at the soft touch and smiling “But, you know, babies don’t usually eat cake...”  
He gets a nudge in the side at that, but just laughs softly, moving to Cas’ side and watching his nimble fingers gliding over the frosting of the cake. Most of the guests are seated in the living room, talking cheerfully, Gabriel and Anna serving sparkling wine and freshly pressed grape juice. When the door opens, Cas hesitates but Dean takes his hand and pulls him with him. Everyone’s quiet for a second, watching Jessica pulling back the soft baby blanket to reveal Cécilia Winchester's pretty, small face, before gently laying her in Castiel’s slightly shaking arms and exclaiming “I need a drink.”  
The guests laugh and one after another gets up, clinking glasses with Sam and Jess and then walking over, taking a look at the baby. Cas holds her as if she’s made of glass, gently cradling her in his strong arms and Dean can’t help but smile proudly.  
“You’re awesome with the baby, Cas! You guys should get one, too.”, Sam calls from the other end of the room, winking at Dean, who blushes deeply and throws biscuits in his brother’s general direction. When he turns back to face Cas, he sees a matching blush on his cheeks, accompanied by a small smile. And yeah… He’d never admit it to anyone - especially Sam - but with Cas he was ready to do anything, to give up anything - as long as they were together and Cas was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this RP!  
> I think I speak for both Ines and I that we enjoyed it very much!!
> 
> Feedback is always welcome :)


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